


Two-Headed Boy

by Moonyeyedwalrus



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Boys with feelings, M/M, b.a.p in space!, boys with secret feelings, boys with secrets, every brotp in the group, everyone gets their own storyline this time, like for real though, not everything is as it seems, obligatory matoki fic, ot6 ot6 ot6, post-war fic, that younglo is a slow burn okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-01-04 22:25:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 144,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12177705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonyeyedwalrus/pseuds/Moonyeyedwalrus





	1. Chapter 1

The hangar bay was crowded with messy stacks of mostly-defunct equipment, obsolete and broken machinery. It would take a year to sort through it all, and twice as long to actually find anything useful. The place was so disorganized it gave Youngjae a headache. 

Fortunately, he was just here as an extra set of hands. Jongup would be doing the actual shopping, and to look at him was to bring to mind the proverbial kid in a candy store. Youngjae supposed it made sense; this place was about as random and cluttered as he imagined Jongup's mind must be. 

He winced as the younger man began to climb an especially precarious-looking pile of ancient generators. As always, Jongup moved with a grace and confidence Youngjae envied. Maybe it was his own medical training that made him more cautious; he'd seen up close the damage that could be done to the human body. 

"Yah, be careful, will you?" he called to the mechanic as he heard the groan of shifting metal. 

"What?" Jongup called back absently. "Hyung, I think I can use this ejector coil to fix your x-ray thing--"

Trust him to spot something useful in so much mess. Jongup was the best mechanic Youngjae had ever known, despite a lack of any formal training. He didn't always know the names of what he was working with, but he knew what he needed when he saw it. He'd certainly kept the Cheonsa running longer than the ship probably deserved, not that Youngjae would ever say such a thing in front of their captain.

"If you say so," he muttered. He winced again as the pile creaked alarmingly. He wasn't sure he could bear to wait around for it to come crashing down. There wouldn't be much he could do if that happened. "I'm gonna look around," he said, louder now. Jongup gave a perfunctory wave, lost in his mechanical glee or whatever, and Youngjae ducked away through the piles. 

It was their first time docking anywhere in months and it couldn't come too soon. Not only were their food and fuel stores dangerously low, but Youngjae felt the crew growing dangerously close to killing each other.

Cheonsa was a far more ramshackle ship than her name suggested, but of course she was home, and his crewmates were the closest thing Youngjae had to a family. But quarters were tight and they all badly needed this time away from each other, even if only for a few hours. 

He wished the station were a little more interesting, though.

It was a relatively small one on the far reaches of populated space, nothing like the bustling hubs around Earth and Mato. There were no arcades here, no movie houses, nothing to make them stay longer than they needed to restock their supplies. 

 _It's better than nothing_ , Youngjae reminded himself. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been out of earshot of Daehyun and Himchan's bickering, which had grown louder and sharper by the day. He meant to enjoy every moment.

Every moment, even if he was surrounded by rusted-out equipment he didn't have the faintest idea what to do with. He skirted a pile that had spilled out into the narrow path, and found himself in a corner. He sighed and turned to go back, and almost jumped out of his skin. 

A Sentinel stood behind him, all blank black helmet and scuffed armor and malice. Youngjae's hands were in the air before he could think and he just managed not to duck instinctively. The Sentinel watched him impassively.

Or...not.

Youngjae's eyes traveled down (and down, and _down_ , God these things were huge) to the robot's feet. It was...resting on its heels. Youngjae lowered his hands as he realized the security bot was leaning against yet another pile of equipment. It wasn't watching him, or anything else. It was deactivated.

He waved a hand in front of its helmet just to make sure. It didn't so much as twitch. He took a heartbeat to be grateful none of the others had seen his error; if Daehyun were here, he'd never hear the end of it. 

Now he was over his initial fright, his natural curiosity reasserted itself. He'd never seen a Sentinel on its own; normally they traveled in terrifying mechanical swarms. What was this one doing all the way out here?

He knew one person who might be able to give him an answer. 

" _Jongup-ah!"_

_*_

There was nothing like a full fuel tank. Cheonsa normally spelled freedom for Yongguk, but the longer they'd gone without a chance to restock their supplies, the more their precious ship felt like a prison. No one had said so out loud, but the captain had seen Daehyun eyeing the fuel gauge uneasily every time he slid into the cockpit. Jongup had known from spending most of his waking hours in the engine room, and Himchan knew everything that went on aboard ship. Youngjae was sharp enough to guess how bad the fuel situation had gotten, and of course the empty larder was obvious to all five of them come meal time.

Well, no more. They had fuel enough to last months, and Daehyun and Himchan had filled the kitchen to bursting, this common purpose bringing about the truce Yongguk had been longing for for weeks. His second-in-command and their pilot were two sides of the same coin: loud and opinionated and prone to needling anyone who got close enough, yet two of the most caring and loyal friends Yongguk had ever had. They could bicker endlessly, but as a team they were unstoppable.

"We'll eat well tonight," Daehyun said, spotting him in the doorway and brightening. "Right, hyung?"

Himchan hummed in agreement, swiping a forearm across his sweaty brow. He grinned at Yongguk. 

"We ready to go? Are the others back yet?" Himchan loathed sitting still. He couldn't rest easy if he couldn't feel the faint thrum of the engine in the soles of his feet. It was one of the few things he and Yongguk had in common.

"Jae just radioed, they're on their way back," he told him. "Sounds like Jonguppie found everything on his wish list."

"Great, he'll disappear with his new toys and we'll never see him again," Himchan groused good-naturedly. 

"Jae said they found something else," Yongguk said. "Something big." It wasn't like Youngjae to be secretive, especially with him. Whatever the something was, the medic hadn't wanted to say it over the radio. 

His second-in-command arched an eyebrow and glanced back at Daehyun, who shrugged. They'd find out soon enough.

*

Well. Himchan hadn't expected _this_.

When Youngjae and Jongup rolled the Sentinel into the cargo bay, Himchan's military training tried to kick in. How many of his fellow soldiers had been mowed down by these things at the end of the war?

"It's okay, it's deactivated," Jongup murmured, sensing his discomfort. The shorter man's brow furrowed as he studied him worriedly. "I'm sorry, we've never seen one of these up close before, we thought--"

"It's fine, Jongup-ah." Himchan managed a smile that, based on the mechanic's doubtful look, didn't quite work. "You're right, we couldn't just ignore it."

He wasn't just saying it to appease the younger. Much as the sight of the robot made him want to grab a blaster, he couldn't help being fascinated, too. These things had spread through space like locusts, yet no one knew anything about them other than that they were the murderous property of the New Republican Alliance. Maybe Jongup could find a weakness they could turn to their advantage if they ever came up against them again.

Daehyun undocked from the station as the rest of them unloaded the carts of supplies Jongup had found. The Sentinel they left against the wall, out of the way but hugely conspicuous.

Jongup was clearly itching to get to work on the robot, and the crew was no less eager to watch. Daehyun put the ship on autopilot and returned to the deck in time to help the others wrestle the bot onto a makeshift exam table. 

Jongup made a slow circle around it, his expression that of a man about to enjoy a particularly sumptuous meal. 

"Where will you start?" Yongguk asked.

"The head," Jongup said immediately. "I think I'll take it off."

This was a plan Himchan could get behind. 

He held a work lamp aloft for the younger man as he carefully worked at the seam where the head met the thick neck.

"I think--I've got it," he murmured finally. There was a kind of shucking sound as the head came off. Jongup pulled it carefully, then froze. There was a general intake of breath around the room.

"Wait, the Sentinels are human?" Daehyun sputtered. "Did _you_ guys all know the Sentinels are human?"

For it wasn't the robot's head that had come loose after all, but rather a heavy helmet, revealing an unmistakably human head underneath. 

"He's just a kid," Yongguk said blankly. His eyes met Himchan's and Himchan knew they were both thinking of the first time they'd seen the Sentinels. So many of their friends and family killed--not by heartless robots after all, but by humans? Himchan wasn't sure why this should feel so much worse; plenty of theirs had been killed by NRA soldiers, after all. 

But at least they'd known what they were fighting, then. 

Since the end of the war almost three years earlier, the Sentinels had become basic security. There was a team of them on every major station, their ships scattered throughout the quadrant, ostensibly to keep the peace but simultaneously reminding everyone of just who was in charge, the bold red insignias on their chests a declaration of which side had won.

Youngjae squeezed in next to Himchan. He turned the boy's head carefully to the side and the light landed on some sort of interface embedded at the base of his skull. 

"Not entirely human," the medic said. He pressed two fingers under the boy's jaw and shook his head with apparent wonder. "He's alive. Be careful, Jonguppie."

Himchan pulled his attention away from the robot-boy's face and forced himself to concentrate on holding the light still for Jongup. When that wasn't distracting enough, he watched the mechanic instead. His face was sharp and focused the way it only got when he was working. The expression was such a contrast to his usual easy grin that Himchan always found himself riveted by it. Jongup looked like he was listening to music only he could hear.

"Most of this is just armor," he said. 

"Can you get it off?" Yongguk said. His voice was strained. It was no easier for him to absorb this new information than it was for Himchan.

"Yeah--help me?" Jongup glanced up and met Himchan's stare. The commander blinked rapidly and looked away.

"Just tell me what to do," he said gruffly.

In the end, they all helped, cracking through layers of armor like a shell, until the boy--man--was laid out before them. He was clad in a kind of thin grey material. He would have looked like any normal guy, but for the heavy armor and weaponry built into both arms and the machinery at the base of his skull.

"I think I should start with this," Jongup decided, turning the man's head further so he could see. Himchan couldn't stop staring at that _face_. The Sentinel's skin was smooth, his cheeks slightly rounded with youth. His eyelashes were long and dark against pale skin. They rolled him over carefully, turning his face to the side so he could breathe. The move squished his cheeks and pushed his lips into a pout. He was so fucking _young_.

 _Too young for the war,_ Himchan told himself. He refused to believe this kid had been at the final battle. If he thought he had been, he'd have to kill him.

"A little left please, hyung," Jongup murmured, making Himchan jump guiltily and adjust the lamp.

"But seriously, I never knew," Daehyun was saying in a  hushed voice. "There were a couple Sentinels on the my last ship; they always freaked me out. We used to try to talk to them all the time, like as a joke, just trying to get a rise out of them, you know? Try to show we didn't care...So _stupid_ , but--they were people the whole time?" He paused. "I hope we didn't hurt their feelings."

Himchan felt a burst of exasperated affection for the pilot. Trust him to switch so completely from wariness to compassion. He wasn't sure he was quite ready for that himself.

Jongup gave a small grunt and tugged, and then he was holding a thin metal chip carefully in a pair of metal pincers, holding it up to the light. Even to Himchan's inexpert eyes, he could see the thing was fried.

"That's its--what, neural transmitter?" Himchan guessed. 

"I don't think so," Jongup said slowly. "There's still plenty of intact hardware here; this was kind of sandwiched in the middle...I think it might've acted as an inhibitor."

"Meaning what?" Yongguk asked. Jongup didn't answer right away but they all knew him too well to take this as disrespect. He just liked to think before speaking, a rare enough thing on this crew. 

"I think this was supposed to cut off its--his--brain." He glanced up at Himchan. "There's a similar thing you can use to manually override a ship's systems if you need to access them quickly and don't have security clearance." His cheeks colored slightly as he spoke and Himchan glanced around at the others to see if they'd noticed. But their attention was too focused on the boy on the table to hear the sudden strain in the mechanic's voice. He gave Jongup a _go on_ nod, pretending he hadn't heard it either.

Jongup looked at Daehyun. "I think if you tried to talk to a Sentinel with one of these in their heads, unless you were giving a direct order it would've been totally irrelevant to them, like white noise."

"Quick, check me for one," Youngjae spoke up, rubbing the back of his head. "I've been hearing white noise when Daehyun talks for _years_."

"Can you fix it?" Himchan asked Jongup before the pilot could retort. "Put it back in?"

"Why would we?" Youngjae asked. "If that's the thing making it--him--a Sentinel in the first place and, like...suppressing his real brain, why would we want it there?"

Himchan sighed. "We don't know for sure that his _real brain_ is still...intact. Who knows how long he's had this shit in his head? He could be scrambled by now." He rather hoped he was. The alternatives immediately springing to mind were all horrifying. 

He went on. "We also don't know what the rest of his hardware will do without the inhibitor in place. There could be safeguards and they _could_ involve defensive measures. Dae, you lived with some of these for awhile. What do you think, could we handle it if this one goes berserk?"

The pilot was scowling. So was Youngjae. Himchan felt a little bit like a monster. If only the boy on the table weren't so damned cute. But seriously, it wasn't like he was suggesting throwing him out an airlock. Yet.

"I don't think I can fix it," Jongup spoke into the silence. He, at least, was looking at Himchan normally. "It's basically toast. If I put it back, I don't think it would do much."

"Can you disable his weapons?" Yongguk spoke up. "Himchan's right; we can't just...wake him up without knowing what might happen. He could blow a hole in the side of the ship with that cannon."

Jongup set the inhibitor down carefully and Himchan angled the light for him so he could see the what he was doing. Jongup's hands traced the circuitry down the Sentinel's shoulders to where his weapons began. 

"Help me roll him back over?" he said.

It was worse with him lying face-up. Himchan didn't think he could be as old as Jongup.

The mechanic didn't seem to notice, focused as he was on the armored plating covering the boy's arms. 

"I think I can...disassemble it," he said, fiddling with the edge of the plating. Then there was a sudden spark and they all jumped. Jongup pulled his hand away with a hiss.

"Jongup!" Himchan dropped the light and moved to the smaller man's side. Jongup had his fingers to his lips; Himchan pulled his hand away to see. The skin was bright red.

"It just shocked me," Jongup told him.

Himchan wanted this thing off the ship, _now_.

"Uhh...guys?"

They looked at Daehyun, who was staring wide-eyed at the table. Himchan realized he was still holding Jongup's hand. He let go and looked down at the Sentinel.

His eyes were open. 

They all froze. 

The Sentinel blinked, then looked at Jongup.

"You are attempting to tamper with my equipment," he said, then frowned. "You are--you're--" He stopped. He raised an arm and Himchan stepped in front of the younger man instinctively, but the Sentinel only touched his own face lightly. He flinched. "I've been damaged," he said, and damn it if he didn't sound like a scared kid. 

Suddenly Yongguk was there.

"You're okay, kid, take it easy," he said. The boy--the Sentinel--the _boy_ \--blinked up at him. 

"I've been damaged," he said again. 

Jongup's hands caged Himchan's hips for a beat as he slid around him. 

"Some of your systems were damaged so we had to take some of your armor off," he explained in his perfectly gentle voice. "But you're gonna be fine."

The boy blinked at him now, his expression blank save for a slight furrow of his brow. 

"Where am I?" he asked. Himchan met Yongguk's eyes over the table. 

 _Don't_ , Himchan thought. Yongguk gave him a small nod.

"You're on our ship," he told the boy. "We found you on Gyeongju station, deactivated. Do you remember how you got there?"

His eyes took on a faraway look for a beat before there was an almost audible _click_ and his expression went cold. 

"I was last stationed with Captain Woo on the...on the..." he trailed off and the mechanical look left his face. "My memory centers have been damaged," he told Jongup, a touch of panic in his voice. Yongguk put a hand on his shoulder and he jerked away. 

"You're safe here," Yongguk told him, holding both hands up so he could see them. "My name's Yongguk. Do you know yours?"

The boy's frown deepened for a beat before he brightened. 

"My designation--" He raised his other arm and they all jumped--this was the one with the huge cannon on it--and Himchan put a hand on Jongup's shoulder, ready to push him out of the way. But the Sentinel didn't seem to notice their reaction, merely twisting his arm so they could see a small barcode printed on the edge of his armor. "I am Second ZELO Unit," he said, almost proudly. 

"That's kind of a mouthful," Yongguk said, smiling. Himchan didn't know how he did that, just tucked his feelings out of sight. No way he was as unconcerned as he looked. He pressed the boy's arm back down gently. This time he didn't flinch, just smiled back at him uncertainly. He had a fucking dimple in one cheek. The sight of it filled Himchan with rage. Whoever the fuck had taken this kid and welded him to all this equipment had some explaining to do. And probably some dying to do. He could see Yongguk was similarly affected but the captain recovered quickly. "How about we just call you Zelo for now?"

The boy considered. "Okay," he said. The single word was the most human he'd sounded yet. This time, none of them jumped when he pushed himself into a sitting position. He looked around at the crew, wide-eyed. Yongguk jumped in to make introductions. 

"This is Himchan, my second-in-command. Daehyun, our pilot." Daehyun waved. "Jongup's our engineer--"

"Mechanic," Jongup corrected quietly, as he always did. Yongguk ignored this, as _he_ always did. 

"And Youngjae's our medic," he finished. The younger man stepped forward.

"Jongup and I are gonna try to get some more of this equipment off of you if that's okay," he said. "At least the weapons, until we can figure out the extent of the, uh, damage."

Zelo agreed hesitantly.

"Let's give them space to work," Yongguk said. He touched Himchan's elbow lightly as he passed him. Himchan held his ground, watching Jongup. The mechanic felt the weight of his gaze and smiled at him. Himchan knew that smile. Jongup got it every time he was faced with a new challenge. Himchan sighed.

"Call if you guys need anything," he said before following the others out.

*

Zelo watched curiously as his armor zapped Jongup for the sixth time. 

"I damaged you," he said, not quite guiltily but not as though he was pleased by it, either.

Jongup gave him a grimacing smile. "It's not bad."

Youngjae felt someone should be the voice of sense, since Himchan had left the room.

"You really can't do this with gloves on?" 

Jongup shook his head, turning Zelo's arm gingerly in both hands as he tried to find a different way in. 

"They make me too clumsy, I need to feel what I'm doing."

"If you get shocked a few more times you're gonna go numb, and then we're all in trouble." 

Zelo spoke up. "I can disable my armor defenses if it will assist you."

They gaped at him.

"Why didn't you mention this before?" Youngjae demanded. Zelo gave him an irritatingly guileless look.

"You didn't ask."

"That'd be helpful," Jongup cut in, with quite a bit more grace than Youngjae could have managed if he'd just had _his_ fingertips scorched for the last twenty minutes. 

Zelo nodded once and there was a slight _bzzt_ sound. "You can access my systems now," he said. Jongup touched the armor again gingerly and smiled.

"Thanks."

He set back to work and Youngjae knew he'd all but dismissed them from his mind. No one managed focus quite as completely as Moon Jongup. Youngjae had seen him work with this same calm good humor in the middle of an engine fire, and once when they hadn't made it unscathed through a fire fight and were venting atmosphere from the engine room.

With Jongup so preoccupied, Youngjae realized he was basically alone with the Se--with Zelo. 

Who was staring at him in clear fascination. 

He stared back on a hunch that Zelo wouldn't mind. He didn't seem to. 

"Do you know how old you are?" Youngjae asked. Zelo's eyes did a creepy little back-and-forth, like he was dreaming with his eyes open. 

"No," he said, eyes going still. "Do you know how old _you_ are?"

Youngjae smiled a little at this. "I'm twenty-four," he said. "Jongup's twenty-three. You look around a little younger than us, maybe. Do you remember anything from before your...last job? Do you remember where you grew up?"

If Yongguk were here, he'd probably give him one of his patented Looks for pushing. But until Jongup got the armor off, there wasn't much for Youngjae to _do_ , and he was unbearably curious. How long had Zelo been a Sentinel? How had he _become_ a Sentinel? Had he had any choice in the matter? 

Zelo's eyes did the thing again, but for longer. 

"No," he said finally. "Memory wipes are automatic upon completion of each contract."

Youngjae supposed this made sense. A Sentinel with divided loyalties wouldn't be very effective security.

"Do you know how many contracts you've had?" he tried. He was getting used to the eye thing. He glanced at Jongup while Zelo did his calculations. The mechanic had removed the outer layer of the cannon affixed to the right arm. The circuitry underneath was still active, complicated with many colors lighting Jongup's face. He was clearly enjoying himself, the weirdo. Youngjae turned back to Zelo.

"No," he said a third time, only now there was a note of uncertainty in his voice. "I believe that portion of my memory centers has also been damaged."

So that was something. He clearly thought he _should_ have this information. 

Jongup spoke up unexpectedly. "We'll take a look at those after I get some of this extra stuff off you, okay?"

His soft voice had the same effect on Zelo that it had on nearly everyone. The Sentinel relaxed visibly and his dimple reappeared. "Thank you, Jongup," he said carefully, as though he'd never spoken the words before. After, he looked at Youngjae as if seeking confirmation he'd done it right. Youngjae nodded at him, smiling a little. 

Jongup gave a pained gasp as he was suddenly shocked again.

"Would you like me to disable my secondary defenses?" Zelo asked.

*

Himchan was pacing. Daehyun was watching and clearly debating how much fun it would be to trip him mid-stride. Yongguk caught his eye and shook his head slightly and the pilot pouted a little.

"We need to decide what to do with him," Yongguk said. 

"Take him back where we found him," Himchan said immediately. "He's dangerous."

"We don't know that," Daehyun objected. Himchan gave him a withering look. 

"He's a _Sentinel_. He's dangerous by design."

"He's just a boy," Yongguk interjected mildly. "I don't think any of us understand his design as well as we thought."

"Well, that's true," Himchan muttered. He ceased his pacing and leaned on a control panel, arms crossed over his chest. "Seriously, where did he come from? And not just him, all the Sentinel units? There are fucking thousands of them, and if they're all like him--these aren't just NRA soldiers with cool armor. So who the fuck are they?"

Yongguk had been considering this since the moment the boy's helmet had come off. 

"So many people were displaced in the war," he said. "It would've been easy for them to pick people off without anyone really noticing. It's not like there was anywhere to post missing persons ads, you know?"

"He would've been so young," Daehyun said. "Do we really think someone was grabbing up civilian children for some sick science experiment? Even for the NRA, that's--crazy, right?"

"That idea sounded a lot crazier before we had the product of some sick science experience hanging out in our medbay," Himchan said dryly. He glanced at Yongguk. "I could kind of see it," he admitted. "The Sentinels changed everything."

Yongguk couldn't disagree. Before the Sentinels had appeared, there had been no end in sight, the war dragging on and stretching so far there seemed no outrunning it. The first Sentinel fleet had wiped out countless thousands of the Matoki, demolishing their already-depleted forces. Yongguk and Himchan had been lucky their captain surrendered before they met the same fate. The war had ended the same day.

"Who knows how long they were working on this tech," he agreed. Daehyun looked vaguely sick. 

"If people knew about this there'd be riots on every station in the system," Himchan muttered. He looked ready to start one himself. He looked at Yongguk. "Now that _we_ know...what the hell do we do?"

Yongguk thought for a moment--about the crushing weight of the New Republican government on the backs of the former Matoki. Of their continued occupation of the Mato planet, expelling hundreds of thousands of refugees into space. Yongguk hadn't seen his home planet in six years. It was still surrounded by a Sentinel fleet.

What could they _do_?

"Seems to me," he mused finally, "that we could get up to some trouble."

Himchan sighed again, but he was starting to smile. "How did I know you were gonna say that?"

*

Zelo had some of the most sophisticated interfacing Jongup had ever seen. A guy could fall in love. 

He'd managed to get the cannon off intact--Himchan would be happy for the chance to study it--but the gun on Zelo's left arm was proving tricky, thanks to the way it tucked neatly _into_ his arm until he activated it. 

Youngjae crowded in beside him to confirm the weapon was tied in to Zelo's nervous system. 

"So the trigger system is _you_ ," Jongup said, fascinated. "You just have to--what, think about it?"

Zelo gave him a polite, quizzical look. "I send a command through my database," he corrected. Jongup didn't argue the semantics. The Sentinel's systems were turning out to be far more sophisticated than they'd looked at first glance. He was pretty sure Zelo was getting some sort of readout through his left eye--there was the occasional subtle blink of light--and Jongup was looking forward to looking into _that_.  

"Can you shut it down?" Youngjae asked, his voice tight. Ah, right. A gun was a weapon, weapons were dangerous, blah blah blah. Jongup tried to tamp down his excitement at how much _new_ he had to work with. Safety first. 

Zelo looked surprised at the question. "Of course."

"Will you?" 

There was another quiet _bzzt_. 

"It's disarmed," Zelo told them. "You don't need to be afraid. I won't hurt you unless directly ordered by my Operator."

"I thought you didn't know who that was," Youngjae said, narrowing his eyes.

"I receive orders through my transceiver. It's not necessary that my Operator be within visual range."

This made perfect sense, but Youngjae's fierce frown made sense to Jongup.

"Hey, maybe I should have a look at that transceiver next," he said.

*

He worked for hours, until his vision was doubling and his head was pounding. 

This happened a lot. Jongup tended to lose himself in what he was doing, and small things like eating and drinking fell forgotten by the wayside.

As usually happened, Himchan stopped him.

He still managed to sneak up on Jongup after all these years; one moment nothing existed but Jongup and the task at hand, the next there was a bottle of water under his nose and Himchan's outstretched palm with two painkillers in it.

Jongup blinked, temporarily disoriented as he came back to himself, then he took the pills from Himchan and downed them wordlessly along with three quarters of the water. 

"There's dinner for you, too, but you can come down to the mess for it," Himchan said. Jongup's stomach growled, right on cue. 

"Anything good?" he said. Himchan swelled in indignation, then caught his teasing tone. Too easy.

"Aish, you," he muttered, slapping his back, then letting his hand rest there, thumb working a muscle in his shoulder Jongup hadn't even realized was sore. He had to work not to groan at the sudden relief, and made himself step out of Himchan's reach instead.

He found Zelo watching them curiously. He opened his mouth and Jongup had a sudden premonition that he didn't want him to say whatever he was about to say, not now, not in front of Youngjae and definitely not in front of Himchan.

"Do you eat?" he blurted out. Zelo's mouth was already opened to speak, he closed it with a snap. Then, "Yes," he said.

They all went to the mess together, once Jongup assured Himchan it was okay to bring Zelo along.

He wasn't quite ready to look at the commander, but Himchan pulled him aside on the way.

"What are you so jumpy for?" he demanded quietly. "You're sure he's really safe?"

He told Himchan quickly about the transceiver.

"I shut it down, but it's still intact."

Himchan caught his meaning immediately. 

"If we turn it back on, he could start getting orders from his--what'd he call it? His Operator?"

"I can't tell about the range but we have to assume they work from a distance."

Himchan hummed thoughtfully, running a finger along his jaw distractedly. Jongup followed the movement helplessly, his eyes tracing the column of the other man's throat.

"Jongup," Himchan said abruptly, and Jongup blinked back into himself guiltily. But the older man's eyes were still faraway, musing. "If someone _was_ sending him orders, could you intercept them somehow? Trace them back to their source?"

This, here, was why Jongup had always liked Himchan so much. He asked good questions.

"Maybe," he said, drawing the word out as he thought. Then he thought some more. Himchan didn't interrupt. "If he has an Operator, why was he in the junk shop, though?" Jongup asked. The question had been niggling the back of his mind since he laid eyes on the Sentinel helmet. "Other than his inhibitor he wasn't even damaged."

"D'you think the shop owner knows more than he told you?" Himchan asked. "It's pretty weird he just let you guys buy a Sentinel so cheap."

"Honestly, I think he was just relieved to get rid of it. Him. Anyway, we still don't know how Zelo got there," Jongup said. 

"He doesn't remember anything?"

"Not so far. But he's got memory archives I haven't even gotten to yet. If they aren't too damaged, we might be able to access them."

Himchan studied him. "And what do you make of _him_?" he said quietly. His lips twisted into a smile. "Or were you too deep in the Working-Moon zone to notice?"

Jongup pushed his shoulder and Himchan's smile widened into his real grin. 

"I'm--reserving judgement," Jongup said. In truth he _had_ been rather in the zone while he worked, though he faintly registered Zelo and Youngjae talking. "You should ask Youngjae hyung."

"I'll do that." Himchan's smile faded and now he was giving Jongup that Look, like he could see straight through him. That Look always made it hard to breathe. "Jongup--"

" _Where are you two?"_ Daehyun's voice floated up from the mess. _"I guess you don't care if we finish the soup, then!"_

"Yah, do you want to die?" Himchan called back, his attention diverted from the mechanic--both a relief and disappointment. "I _made_ that soup, you-- c'mon, before he inhales it all--" He turned to go and Jongup had no choice but to follow.


	2. Chapter 2

A Sentinel made for a distracting dinner companion. Even Daehyun was more interested in staring than eating; he kept missing his mouth with his spoon. Yongguk had barely touched his food either, although that wasn't as unusual. Himchan was eating in a deliberate kind of way, seemingly determined not to be bothered by Zelo's presence. Jongup had to fight down a smile at the sight. He was so stubborn.

As for Zelo, he was eating, but he kept looking at his food with something like amazement. 

"Haven't you ever had yukgaejang before?" Daehyun spoke up. 

"I usually eat a complete protein supplement with the optimal blend of nutrients. It comes in powder form and can be dissolved in water...mostly..." Zelo looked at the food like it was a revelation. Jongup could relate. He'd felt the same the first time he had Himchan's cooking. 

It had been a night not so unlike tonight in that Jongup had been equally exhausted. Back then he'd been working at a fuel refinery station--physically demanding and occasionally dangerous work, but the pay had been good. 

He'd been perched up high, running quality checks on a new stack of ore, when he felt a prickle on the back of his neck and looked down.

A man stood below him, hands on his hips, staring up at him through narrowed eyes. 

Jongup was sure he'd felt no whisper of premonition, no indication that this would be A Moment in his life that would change everything. He _may_ have noticed this was the most handsome person he'd ever seen, but he pushed that away easily enough. 

"Foreman's that way," he'd told him, pointing. Himchan hadn't followed his finger. 

"I'm looking for an engineer," he said.

"Can't help you there."

"You're not Moon Jongup? Word around is you're the best."

Jongup ignored this appeal to his ego. He sighed and made his way down, fingers and toes seeking out the smallest holds until he reached the floor. He took note of Himchan's battered leather jacket, lacking any government insignia on the sleeves. Former Matoki soldier, probably.

"I'm just a mechanic," he said. Himchan had smiled slightly and that _might_ have had some kind of liquifying effect on Jongup's insides. Maybe. 

"We'll take either one, so long as you know what you're doing."

"Who's we?" Jongup was wary of groups. He'd spent too long being outnumbered. He was doing fine on his own. 

Himchan was scanning him, his gaze licking flames across Jongup's skin. He wondered what he saw--just another grease monkey, nothing to distinguish him from any other in the refinery. Blending in was a survival skill he'd mastered since the war.

"We've got small ship, still getting a crew together. Still trying to get her up and running, actually. We need an eng--a _mechanic_." That smile again. Jongup looked around.

"I've already got a job." 

"Who says I'm offering you another one? Come take a look at Cheonsa. Help us out for a couple days--we'll pay you, obviously. No commitment, but at least come see. After your shift? We're docked at B1A4--"

Jongup had been sure he wouldn't go. His days at the refinery were long and he always ended them starving and exhausted.

But that night he'd found himself wandering over to the docking bays, searching for B1A4. He wasn't sure who he was trying to fool by acting casual.

When he caught sight of Cheonsa, he thought he must have the wrong ship. Or maybe she just had the wrong name. He'd never seen such a rickety bucket. She was a barely-updated model of old Earth ships, with rockets that would rotate around the craft itself, centrifuge-style. Jongup hadn't realized they still made these.

There was a man outside, scrubbing at a large scorch mark on the underbelly of one of the rockets. He looked around when Jongup approached.

"Moon Jongup?" he guessed in a startlingly deep voice. Jongup nodded, a bit nonplussed. The man stood and motioned for him to follow. "Himchan said you'd be by. C'mon, I'll show you the engine room."

The inside of the ship hadn't been much better than the outside, though it was noticeably cleaner. The deep-voiced man led the way down to the engine room, where Jongup put Himchan's face to his name for the first time. 

He was on his back under the blocky set of inertial dampeners and didn't notice them come in right away, giving Jongup a chance to survey the room. It was a narrow cylinder at least three stories tall, the engine and fuel tanks a thick column in the middle. Jongup could see it would be a pain to reach everything and he immediately started designing a system of pulleys and swings to raise and lower himself so he could work with his hands free rather than needing to perch.

He shook his head hard to dislodge the thought. It wasn't like he was taking the job. He was just looking.

"Thank God," Himchan said, spotting him hesitating in the doorway. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

He slid out from under the equipment and pushed himself to his feet. His face had acquired a thin sheen of sweat, and a not-so-thin streak of grease at his hairline. He swiped his fringe back with his forearm, smearing the mess even worse. Jongup had the unexpected urge to smile. 

"I think I see your problem," he said, setting his bag down. His tools clanked inside. "You're trying to fit in parts that weren't even invented yet when this ship was built."

Himchan glared at the shiny new parts laying on the metal grate beside him, then up at the man who'd led Jongup in--Yongguk, of course.

"Was that a dig at our beloved Cheonsa?" he said. 

"I believe it was," Yongguk said gravely. He peered at Jongup sternly. "She may be old, but she's got heart to spare."

Part of the engine fell off and clattered to the floor. Himchan stared at it for a beat.

"...We're hoping," Yongguk amended. 

Jongup tried not to laugh as Himchan turned a pleading look on him. 

"Stick around and help me splice this into something spaceworthy? There's dinner in it for you," he said. "I swear I'm a better cook than engineer."

Jongup had been living on generic protein rations for weeks, the cheap "food" all he would allow himself. His stomach ached with longing at the thought of a real meal.

"You're on," he said.

In the end, of course, he'd never left. 

He'd told Yongguk it was Himchan's cooking. 

He'd told Himchan it was Cheonsa, that he'd grown attached and didn't trust him alone with her (cue outraged gasp). 

He'd told Daehyun he liked the challenge of keeping the ship running, plus the series of odd jobs the crew picked up to make credits.

He meant each of these, yet each skirted the truth.

His real reason kicked him under the table.

"You're not eating," Himchan said. "Yukgaejang's your favorite."

"Sorry." Jongup smiled and picked up his spoon. "I was drifting."

Himchan's expression softened. "We need to introduce you to the concept of breaks," he said. He reached over and pinched Youngjae's ear. "Why didn't you stop him?"

"Yahhh, he never listens to anyone but you," Youngjae said, slapping his hand away. Himchan subsided, folding his arms in that way he did when he was pleased and trying not to show it.

It was all very normal, like there wasn't a Sentinel at the table with them. 

A Sentinel who kept taking tentative sips of his soup and gasping and staring at his bowl, blinking rapidly, then eating some more. Daehyun had finished his own food and was watching him with open fascination. Youngjae pinched him under the table, but the pilot couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the spectacle.

Yongguk cleared his throat. "So, Zelo," he said, drawing everyone's attention. The boy put down his spoon and looked at him with an attentiveness so complete it was almost creepy. "Uh--you can keep eating," the captain said, taken aback. "I was just wondering what you wanted to do."

"What I...want?" Zelo repeated. 

"Is there somewhere we can drop you off? Is there somewhere you'd like to go?" 

Himchan was shaking his head slightly, trying to catch Yongguk's eye. Probably worried Zelo would want to be taken to the nearest NRA outpost. That would be bad for all of them. The captain doggedly avoided his gaze, focusing on Zelo.  

"I don't have anywhere to go," he said finally. "I'll understand if you want to deactivate me until I can be repaired."

Youngjae frowned. "We wouldn't just _deactivate_ you. You're a person, Zelo, not a machine."

Zelo looked at him blankly. "I'm malfunctioning."

"Some of the hardware they put in you is malfunctioning," Jongup corrected quietly. " _You_ seem fine, though." He wasn't sure he should mention that Zelo's malfunctioning equipment was beyond what he could fix. He already looked so lost.

"You don't need all that machinery here," Yongguk said. Apparently he'd made up his mind about something. "You can just...be _you_ , if you want." He gave Youngjae a quick look and the medic nodded.

"You don't need it to survive or anything," he agreed. Zelo's frown deepened.

"But. How will I receive orders?" he asked haltingly. "How will I know what I'm supposed to do?"

"This is what I'm saying--you don't have to follow orders," Yongguk said. "You can decide things for yourself now." He hesitated. "We can help you."

Himchan pushed his chair back from the table with a loud scrape and left the table without a word. Daehyun winced. Yongguk just nodded encouragingly at Zelo, who seemed to be mulling this over. After a beat, he picked up his spoon and took another mouthful of his soup.

Jongup pushed back from the table silently and ducked out the door.

He followed a series of crashing sounds to the cargo bay, where Himchan was going through the salvaged equipment they'd brought on board. Jongup leaned against the wall and watched him, knowing he knew he was there. Himchan worked silently for a time before finally stopping, his back to Jongup. 

"Did I ever tell you about my last mission before the ceasefire?" he asked. 

"No."

He could have fit in a thimble what Himchan had told him about the war. He knew it was how he'd met Yongguk, and that it had killed off every last member of his family. He'd never pressed him to reveal more.

"It was after the massacre when the Sentinels first showed up. Hundreds of our ships were just...gone, like that." Himchan snapped his fingers, the sound sharp in the cavernous room. "We almost went the same way before the captain surrendered. Half the people on our ship were taken out with plasma burns, including Yongguk. But our commander was still alive, and _pissed_ , so he got a small team together. You know after the surrender, the same Sentinel ships that had just been slaughtering us came out to give _aid_. Bring in supplies to the survivors."

Jongup could hear the scorn in his voice. He nodded, though Himchan couldn't see him. He remembered watching the transmissions just after the massacre. No one could believe the Sentinels existed. No one could believe they'd wiped out so many Matoki in a single attack. 

The Boss had declared to everyone within earshot that they had to get their hands on one of the robots, that it would give them a leg up for the rest of the war. In the end, there hadn't been enough war left to bother. 

"One of their ships docked with ours. While they were coming onboard with supplies, our team snuck onto theirs." Himchan's voice was soft. "We couldn't...you know, we were out of ammo by then, basically shooting blanks at that point. But we still rigged the ship. Just to make some trouble, we figured. Fight to to the end."

"Rigged the ship how?" Jongup asked when it seemed he wasn't going to continue. 

Himchan gave a shaky sigh and turned back to him. His face betrayed nothing. "To vent the atmosphere when they uncoupled from our ship. We got their cargo bay doors to open without warning and they were just--sucked out into space. A couple hundred Sentinels." Now he looked slightly sick. "We thought they were _robots,_ but--d'you think they were all as young as him?"

Oh. Somehow, Jongup hadn't expected guilt. It wasn't easy to stay where he was, but he forced himself not to cross the room to Himchan's side.

"I don't know," he said honestly. 

"Could their armor have protected them?" 

He considered lying. But he lied to Himchan enough. 

"Not unless they had a different design back then," he said. Himchan just nodded, unsurprised. "They didn't do anything to your ship after that?"

"Too much chaos. They called the official ceasefire a few hours later. I guess they figured...I dunno. Bygones. Or maybe the Sentinels were just disposable. They did send someone back for their ship, I remember."

His voice was bitter, his face twisted. Jongup forgot himself and took a few steps toward him.

"That was war," he said. "And you didn't know." 

Himchan gave a short, unamused laugh. "You know the worst bit?" he said. "If I had...I would have done it anyway."

The clunk of approaching footsteps spared Jongup the need to answer. Himchan's expression shuttered as Yongguk appeared in the doorway. 

"So we're just adopting strays without even talking about it now?" Himchan said without hesitation. The captain gave him a look that was part exasperation, part apology. 

"You never ask before _you_ do it," he said, then, "But you're right, I'm sorry. This one's...different."

"Understate it a little more, Bbang."

Yongguk ignored this and turned to Jongup. "You're sure he's not being tracked somehow?"

"He isn't right _now_ ," Jongup said. "I haven't gone through all that hardware, though. There's probably more than one way they could get to him." Whoever _they_ were. "I'll need some more time."

Yongguk nodded. "He seems open to staying. Or maybe he just doesn't have any better ideas."

"I get the feeling he hasn't had to think for himself in awhile," Himchan agreed. 

"How much of a problem is it for you? Him being here?" Yongguk looked concerned. "I know what he was, but--I don't think he could have been _there_. At the end."

Himchan straightened. "It doesn't matter," he said simply. "We're probably better off not knowing."

Yongguk conceded the point with a nod, though he still looked troubled.

Himchan let him off the hook. "Get the tragic off your face. Go on, tend to your newest kid, Captain."

Yongguk hesitated. "You?"

"Just." Himchan stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Give me the night, okay?"

Yongguk studied him, then turned to Jongup. "Can you--"

"Leave him, Bbang. He already worked all day."

Yongguk sighed and Jongup gave him a shrug. He wanted to be annoyed with Himchan's protectiveness, but in truth he _did_ feel about ready to drop. Himchan always knew that kind of thing.

"Get some sleep then, both of you. We'll...see where we are tomorrow." The captain ducked back out of the cargo bay and they listened to his footsteps retreating down the hall. 

"You sure you're all right?" Jongup asked. 

"Course." Himchan turned away to survey the equipment again, the set of his shoulders high and stiff. 

He was so clearly lying that Jongup's resolve broke. He closed the distance between them and lay a light hand on Himchan's hip.

"Leave it, hyung. It's fine til tomorrow." 

Himchan sighed and turned to him, eyes searching. Jongup cocked his head just slightly toward the door and took a step back, waiting for Himchan to take a step forward, then turned to go.

The bunks were spread unevenly throughout the ship with Jongup's closest to the engine room, of course. Not near Himchan's at all. For a moment, he thought he would veer off to his own room. But his quiet footsteps continued behind him.

They didn't see the others along their way, and so much the better. Jongup ducked through the low doorway and flicked on a lamp. His bunk was a narrow space, not much more than the bed itself, pocketed into the wall, a row of metal lockers holding his few belongings, the tiny bathroom in the corner. It didn't feel half as comfortable to him as the engine room did--except when Himchan was here. 

The commander had to crouch to get through the small door before closing it behind him. Wordlessly, they kicked off their boots, Jongup leaving his in a messy cluster in front of the lockers, Himchan setting his neatly beside the door. He shrugged off his jacket and lay it over them. 

He was left in a black t-shirt. His Matoki-issued tattoo stood out starkly against the pale skin of his forearm, declaring his rank and allegiance. He and Yongguk both had them, while Youngjae's showed the Mato medical crest. Daehyun's had been burned off during his time on a New Republican prison ship, the neat circle of scar tissue a reminder of the one thing he refused to talk about. No wonder he always wore long sleeves.

By the time Jongup came of age and could have joined the Matoki forces, they had stopped doing the tattoos--too dangerous upon capture, as Daehyun could attest. But that wasn't really why Jongup didn't have one. 

He knew that if Himchan ever learned the real reason, if he ever learned how Jongup had spent the war, he'd kill him. Jongup would have to leave Cheonsa before that happened. He knew that getting involved with the commander was just about the stupidest thing he could have done, that it would only make things worse later. He'd lost track of how many times he'd vowed to himself that this was the last time.

But fuck it. 

Himchan looked young and tired in the lamplight as Jongup pulled him into the circle of his arms. He would have liked to just hold him for awhile, let him talk. He wondered if even Yongguk knew the story of his last mission. He was guessing not. He would have liked to tell Himchan that it was okay, that he'd done far worse himself.

But he didn't want to talk about _that_ , and besides, that wasn't how this worked. Their talking, their friendship, was a separate thing from--this.

Himchan gave off heat as surely as any engine. Jongup could feel him through the double layer of their shirts. He shed his and Himchan followed suit. His thumb traced the scar on Jongup's chest from just below his nipple to just above his belt, then kept going. Jongup shivered and Himchan's eyes flicked up to his.

"All right?"

Jongup nodded, resting his palms against his chest as Himchan pulled his belt free. When he dropped it to the floor with a metallic clatter, Jongup took the half step needed to press against him, winding his arms around his neck. Then Himchan's hands were in his hair and his lips were on his and after almost two years Jongup still didn't understand how they could fit so perfectly against each other. 

It had been a while since last time; they sometimes went months between these nights. It was nothing official, nothing defined. They never discussed it, spent the night together or faced an awkward morning-after encounter in the same bed. Come tomorrow, Jongup knew, it would be as though tonight had never happened.

He told himself this was fine. Better to pretend than have to figure out what to do with all his stupid feelings; feelings he couldn't act on with his secret hanging over him. This way was better. This was more than he deserved. 

_This--_ the taste of Himchan against his tongue, lightly salty as Jongup ran his lips down his jaw and to his neck. Himchan's hand at the small of his back, holding Jongup against him while somehow sliding his own belt off one-handed. 

_This_ \--an ungraceful crash onto the bunk, laughing breathlessly into each other, Himchan pulling Jongup on top. Jongup pressing Himchan's hands into the mattress on either side of his face, linking their fingers. 

_This--_ kisses that should have felt impersonal and beside-the-point but were anything but. Jongup felt like they were melting together.

Their hips rocked and he gasped. Himchan got his hands free and they came up to frame his face, both gentle and insistent at once. 

"Take your pants off," Jongup told him. Himchan arched an eyebrow.

"Bossy."

They rolled away from each other long enough to shed the rest of their clothes, then came back together, on their sides but pressed tightly together. Jongup hooked one leg over Himchan's hip, feeling his length press deliciously against his own. 

Himchan kissed him deeply. It was like drowning, except fantastic. So really, nothing like drowning. Himchan just had a way of making his head go swimmy. Jongup tried to remember that he was meant to be comforting him. He tried to remember that this should _really_ be the last time. He tried to remember his own fucking name.

Then Himchan pressed in and he forgot everything. 

*

Yongguk returned to the mess to find it empty, save for the clutter of dishes and leftovers still on the table. He was pretty sure it was Daehyun's turn to clean up, but he supposed he knew what had distracted him tonight.

He didn't have to look too hard for him. The cockpit was Daehyun's the same way the engine room was Jongup's. Granted, Himchan would take his turn flying every so often and they all liked to curl up in the corner sometimes to watch the stars. The room had the most expansive view on the ship, enough to let them forget for just a moment that they were in little better than a tin can hurtling through the cosmos. 

Yongguk knew this was why Daehyun loved it, why he would sit in the 'pit even when the ship was on autopilot. More than any of them, the pilot needed that sense of _space_. 

And here he was, slouched in his seat, gazing thoughtfully past the controls and to the stars, index finger tapping his lower lip slowly, steady as a metronome.

Yongguk hesitated in the doorway, then slipped in, past the controls to stand in front of the window. As always it took his eyes a moment to adjust, to really see the stars clearly. There was a bittersweet flash of reality: the war was over, but he couldn't go home again.

They didn't speak for a moment. Finally, he heard Daehyun shift behind him. 

"Himchan okay?" His voice was very even and his face was blank when Yongguk glanced back at him. He hated that non-expression, reminding him again that the war would never _really_ be over for some of them.

"He was just reminding me that we're supposed to discuss things on this ship," he said. "I didn't mean to bypass the whole...asking for your opinions...thing, about Zelo. I'm sorry."

"You're the captain." Daehyun gave him a small smile, but there was a tightness to it that Yongguk didn't like. 

Not for the first time, he wished he had Himchan's--or Daehyun's, for that matter--knack for touch. They were so good at recognizing when a simple hand on a shoulder would be a comfort, and it was so natural coming from them. Yongguk recalled the way Zelo had flinched away from him. Fair enough, kid. 

One drunken night, Himchan had teased him for it, making his own hand a wooden plank to pat Yongguk awkwardly on the head. 

_"There, there..."_ he'd said in a deep mechanical impression of Yongguk's attempts at comfort that made him laugh despite himself. Himchan hadn't meant it to sting--he almost never did--but it did anyway, the more for the truth in it.

So he didn't reach for Daehyun now. 

"Still," he said. "I should've talked to you all first, not just...offered up the ship to the guy."

"You shouldn't have to ask permission to do the right thing," Daehyun said. "If you can handle it, so can we." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Yongguk considered this. "What's right for Zelo isn't necessarily right for us," he said. "I want to make sure he's okay, but--you know you guys are my priority."

Daehyun's smile turned real at this and Yongguk's chest filled at the sight. 

"I just keep thinking," the pilot said, squinting out into space. "Who was he before, you know? Did they just take him? Keep him locked up somewhere while they experimented on him?"

Yongguk shifted a bit, uncomfortable at this reminder of all the things Daehyun had still never told him. The younger man's time on the prison ship loomed over him, in ways noticeable and not. He needed to see the stars, for instance, because he'd gone eighteen months without them. Yongguk hadn't known him in his Before, so he couldn't guess at all the changes his imprisonment had wrought. But he always sensed that his need for near-constant sound, be it music or conversation or just his own voice, was partly to drown out whatever memories he might be suppressing. Yongguk couldn't help thinking that one day, Daehyun would have to reckon with what had been done to him. He just hoped he'd be around to help when he did.

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe."

Daehyun nodded. "You're right to want to help him. I do too," he said stoutly. 

"Yeah?" Yongguk smiled at him and Daehyun grinned. 

"What the hell," he said with a shrug. "We could use some new blood around here."

"You mean someone else to add to the chore rotation."

He laughed, a great loud _ha!_ that filled the room with the sound and Yongguk with relief. Daehyun couldn't fake that laugh.

"Busted," he said.

*

"You can sleep here," Youngjae told Zelo, clearing a crate off the cot in the corner of the medbay. "Um. You do sleep, yeah?"

"I enter REM sleep while my systems recharge," Zelo said. Youngjae nodded, relieved.

"Well, you can do the first part without worrying about the second," he assured him. Zelo was staring down at the bed as though he'd never seen one before. Maybe he hadn't.

Youngjae looked away, pulling some blankets from the compartment under the cot. "It gets cold in here, so--we'll scrounge up some better clothes for you tomorrow," he said. Zelo looked down at his grey onesie-thing, stretched out to accommodate his large figure, then at Youngjae's outfit.

"There may be a sizing problem," he said, and Youngjae let out a startled laugh. It was impossible to tell whether Zelo had made a joke on purpose; he blinked solemnly at him, but Youngjae thought the corners of his lips twitched for a second. 

"We'll figure it out," he told him. 

Zelo nodded and sat down on the cot, his back very straight. He looked around the room with unmistakable curiosity, though he'd already spent most of the day here. Youngjae didn't blame him; after all, he'd been watching _him_ all day and still had about a hundred questions itching the tip of his tongue.

Abruptly, Zelo looked up at him.

"I don't ordinarily enter REM sleep until I am at 20% capacity or lower," he said.

"20% power?" Youngjae asked, glancing at the metal cabinet where Jongup had locked the Sentinel's equipment he'd already removed. He wondered how hard it would be for Zelo to break in if he wanted to. He seemed placid enough, but Youngjae had seen Sentinels at work, and they were freakishly strong. He made a mental note to add strength tests to his to-do list.

"20% energy reserves," Zelo said, which didn't do much to clarify things. 

"You're saying you aren't really tired?" Youngjae guessed. Zelo tilted his head slightly.

"Ye-es," he said slowly. 

The medic hesitated. Zelo must be used to his Operators pushing him to the point of exhaustion, so he probably didn't even know what it felt like to be normally tired. He'd spent the day being poked and prodded and questioned, and there was more of that in his future. 

But, hell, as long as he was awake.

Youngjae sat cross-legged beside him, facing him. 

"Can I ask you something?" he said. Zelo just looked at him raptly, which he took to mean yes. The medic took a breath. He understood why Himchan was so freaked. It was a deeply uneasy thought that they were harboring someone who'd been involved in the final deciding battle of the war. Youngjae still had nightmares about the days of death and injury that had followed.

"Do you remember the war?" he asked. 

"The war," Zelo repeated, blinking.

"Do you _know_ about the war?" Youngjae tried. He thought the boy's eyes might do that creepy back-and-forth thing again, but they didn't.

"The war between the Matoki settlers and the New Republican Alliance of Earth," Zelo said promptly, sounding only slightly like he was reading from a textbook. "The planet Mato was terraformed and colonized two hundred and thirteen years ago. The NRA formed when Earth became uninhabitable fifty years later. They spread through the system, building ships and space stations, until it was decided they needed a new homeworld. Mato was selected for colonization."

"You mean invasion," Youngjae burst out, the anger coming in a rush. "Mato's been populated for hundreds of years, the NRA displaced people who'd been there for generations."

Zelo blinked and cocked his head slightly. "That doesn't sound right."

"It's the truth, I was fucking _there_." He couldn't help the heat rising to his face. He'd seen the devastation the NRA rained down on peaceful cities who refused to relocate. His brother had been lost in one of the firestorms. All because the NRA hadn't had the foresight and patience to find another planet in the system.

"No," Zelo said unexpectedly. "Not inaccurate. I meant that sounds _wrong_."

Youngjae studied him. Suddenly the boy didn't look quite so young anymore. He was frowning slightly. 

"Do you know if they used you in the war?" he asked him. If they could just be _sure_ \--

"That information was stored in my damaged Memory Center," Zelo said, almost apologetically. Then, "Did they use _you_ in the war?"

Youngjae blinked. "They--no. I mean, they didn't _use_ me. I enlisted. I chose to. I was part of the medical corps."

"You're a doctor."

"A medic," he corrected. The war had put a temporary end to things like medical school. His training had been both haphazard and on the fly, and he'd never considered himself a real doctor. 

He was damned good at setting a bone or tying a tourniquet, though.

"Is that different?" Zelo asked.

"I don't have a degree."

"Do you want one?" 

Youngjae wasn't sure where this curiosity was coming from--was it somehow programmed in? Did Zelo just not want to answer questions about himself? He supposed that would make sense, since he didn't seem to have many answers. But maybe this was coming from the real him, whoever he'd been before he'd been made into a tool of the New Republic.

"I've thought about it," he said honestly. "But all the universities are run by the NRA now. They've shown a bias against former Matoki." 

_Former,_ pah. As if any of them would ever be ex-Mato-born. Thanks to the NRA, they were all defined by where they'd been born, and what they'd lost.

Youngjae pushed the bitterness away and studied Zelo. "You know, you could start to think about what _you_ want to do," he said. "It could be anything, really."

The boy looked at him nervously. "Jongup can't fix me?"

Youngjae winced. "We already told you, you're not broken, Zelo. Some of your equipment is, but that's not _you_."

Zelo crossed his arms, cupping his elbows in his palms, clenching his jaw, frowning at the floor. Youngjae tried to imagine what could possibly be going on in his head. To know there was so much he didn't remember, to have lived for so long (how long?) with the answers just coming to him, no need to make choices... And now, suddenly alone and untethered. It would be a lot for anyone.

Maybe this was enough for tonight.

"Hey." Youngjae pitched his voice soft. Zelo blinked at him. "You wanna watch a movie?"


	3. Chapter 3

Zelo had never watched a film before. He could see why people liked them. Youngjae had fallen asleep beside him on the cot. He was going to miss the end. 

Zelo turned the volume down and kept watching. 

The movie was an old one, the effects unrealistic to the point of comedy, yet Zelo barely noticed. He suspected Youngjae had chosen it as some sort of anti-NRA propaganda, as the bad guys had an army of helmeted soldiers that could have passed for (very) early prototypes of Sentinels. The good guys all got to have faces.

Still, it was enjoyable enough and he only needed to use 26% of his attention to watch it anyway. 

The rest of his considerable brainpower he dedicated to sorting through the mess he was in. 

He hadn't been feigning his fear and confusion upon waking in a strange place, surrounded by strange people. Not that the place or the people were the problem. His armor was gone and he felt _soft_ without it, all exposed underbelly. He was a fraction of himself. 

And the missing armor was only the start. Far worse was the blank space where some _answers_ should have been. He knew the captain had been intentionally vague about who and where they were. It shouldn't have mattered. Normally, Zelo's systems would have run the crew's faces through the central database and pulled up their names, ranks and histories within seconds. 

But as he'd blinked up at them from the table, there'd been...nothing. No automatic download of intel. No steady stream of orders into his consciousness. Just the dawning realization that somehow he'd become untethered, set adrift. He was alone in his own head for the first time he could remember. It was terrifying.

He suspected the crew wouldn't understand this.

Thankfully, his mind wasn't a _total_ blank. Things were just a bit more...do-it-yourself than usual, that was all. He calculated in seconds that the crew would be more accepting while he was in a state of perpetual cluelessness. He could understand this easily enough; he'd spotted the Mato military tattoo on the captain's forearm. They wouldn't easily trust a Sentinel.

So he kept up the act long after his equilibrium returned, after he realized his transceiver wasn't actually damaged, just oddly dormant. Technically he could log onto the central database any time, though he kept this little fact from Jongup.

Because there was the other little fact that, while he _could_ have done it, could have logged onto the database and let the answers stream in...it would be a very bad idea.

Logging on would flag his location. He'd be tagged as _out of pocket_ , and an Operator would be sent to intercept. 

Zelo couldn't have that, because he _was_ damaged. Never mind the transceiver or his missing armor. The real problem was his fried inhibitor, not to mention the fact that all of his attempts to pull up his most recent Memories brought up the blinking message: **FILE NOT FOUND**. Yet he could find no trace of physical damage to his Memory Center--meaning someone had gone in manually and wiped it. 

It was fairly fucking inconvenient that he couldn't remember who.

Whatever Operator they sent after him wouldn't care. They would just see a damaged Sentinel and decommission him, strip him for parts. Out go the lights.

Zelo might be damaged, lost, and amnesiac, but even that was better than being dead.

(The film's ragtag team of rebels were getting their asses kicked. Zelo felt a bit sorry for them. He dedicated another 4% of his attention to watching, in solidarity.)

He tried another Memory sweep: **FILE NOT FOUND**.

And a search for his last job: **FILE NOT FOUND**.

Or for his position during the war: **FILE NOT FOUND**.

He needed a new strategy. 

He sighed and pulled his knees up to his chest, giving a start at how _light_ he was without his suit. He kept remembering his own body, noticing things he'd never had to think about. His feet, for instance. They were long and knobby and he had zero association with them. None. Yet they'd carried him around his whole life--however long that had been ( **FILE NOT FOUND** ).

He tucked them under one of the blankets Youngjae had brought, taking care not to disturb him. His Medical Reader told him the medic was in the middle of a REM cycle. To wake him now would be disorienting. 

Zelo wasn't sure what to make of the crew. He wasn't used to having to make anything of anyone. He felt vaguely predisposed to find the Matoki tiresome, even pitiable. Their ship was certainly nothing much to look at. 

But he'd rather enjoyed watching Jongup work. There was something admirable in his focus and good humor, which he'd maintained even as Zelo let his defenses zap him repeatedly. And he appreciated the curiosity from the others; their differences of opinion were refreshing somehow. 

He sensed some fear from the pilot and hostility from the commander, but he estimated a low threat from either. The ship's command structure was curiously lax, even casual, but it was clear the captain was respected, and he'd made his intentions towards Zelo clear enough.

Besides, if Himchan made an attempt on Zelo's life, he only had a 14% chance of success. Zelo could live--literally--with those odds.

Again he returned to the missing files, probing his mind like a sore tooth. The specifics of his past positions were gone, but some general details remained. He had a feeling there had been lots of...standing. He didn't think he'd been alone much; even now he found himself glancing around, expecting to see another Sentinel beside him.

He had images of places, too, though their locations were gone. Long gray hallways, a low square room with tables where the Sentinels ate together, away from prying eyes who weren't supposed to know what was under their helmets, or that they were helmets at all. It was silent, nothing like tonight's dinner with this crew, their teasing and disagreements and--

_\--Are you gonna finish that?_

The question made Zelo jump, looking around for the speaker before he realized the voice was coming from his own head. Cautiously, he scanned his Memory: **FILE NOT FOUND**.

_Are you gonna finish that?_

"What?" he said, not meaning to speak aloud. If this wasn't one of his Memory files, that could only mean--he was _remembering_. 

It shouldn't have been possible; the neural inhibitor stored all the specifics in his Memory Center, smoothing everything else out into a hazy blur, which was all Zelo should have access to now.

But there was nothing hazy about this.

What must have been natural to most people was a struggle for him--searching not his Memory, but his memories.

_Are you gonna finish that?_

The voice, rough. A pair of dark eyes meeting his across the table. The recollection of his own shock at being addressed by another Sentinel. At hearing it at all when his inhibitor should have prevented it. Which meant he must have been malfunctioning long before his Memories were wiped.

What _was_ this?

"Aishh I love this part," Youngjae mumbled sleepily, tearing Zelo out of himself. He almost glared at the medic before he remembered he was playing innocent. The medic wasn't looking at him, though, but was blinking at the screen. "They're so happy."

The rebels had won. There was lots of cheering and hugging.

"Wonder what that would've been like," Youngjae said wistfully. Zelo watched him instead of the movie. 

"Are you all right?" he asked, because asking would make Youngjae like him better, but also because he was curious. He may have jolted Zelo from some kind of memory-related breakthrough, but he'd been kind to him all day and Zelo didn't need working Memory Centers to know that was a rare thing. 

Youngjae blinked and seemed to remember where he was. He sat up quickly, rubbing his palms against his eyes. 

"I didn't mean to pass out," he said. 

"You needed sleep."

"I know, but--we were hanging out." He sounded _guilty_. It took Zelo a minute to even think of the word. "Sorry, Zelo."

He wasn't sure anyone had ever apologized to him before. He'd have to check his Memory. Or--his memories. Whatever. This was getting confusing. 

"Hey," Youngjae said, frowning at him in a worried way rather than an angry one. " _You_ okay?"

"My head hurts," Zelo realized. And then he _yawned_. What. 

Youngjae smiled. His cheeks were very round and his smile was pleasingly symmetrical. Zelo had never been smiled at so many times in one day.

" _You_ need sleep," Youngjae said, leaning over to turn off the film. "You don't have to be all the way down to 20% energy or whatever. Trust me, I'm a doctor."

"Medic," Zelo corrected automatically. 

"I've gotta learn to stop telling people that," Youngjae said, but he was grinning and Zelo could see he wasn't upset. He pushed himself to his feet and stretched. "You'll be okay here? You're sure?"

Zelo blinked up at him. "What might happen?"

"I--" Youngjae stopped, apparently stumped. "You could stub your toe trying to get to the bathroom in the dark," he concluded triumphantly. Zelo frowned. 

"My vision is enhanced to require only 10% of the illumination needed by..." he trailed off as Youngjae raised his eyebrows. 

" _Un_ enhanced humans?" he guessed. 

"...normal humans."

"You won't be calling us normal once you get to know us a little better," Youngjae assured him. His tone indicated to Zelo that he was joking. He smiled up at him uncertainly.

"I'm sure you're right," he said. Youngjae laughed and Zelo realized what that had sounded like. "I mean--"

But Youngjae waved a hand. "You're fine, it's good. Honestly, I'm so tired you could say anything right now and I wouldn't care. Here, pillow--" He fluffed it and lay it at the head of the cot. "And blankets--obviously--we'll find you real clothes tomorrow--bathroom's through there--"

"I'll be fine." Zelo stretched out along the cot. His feet hung slightly off the end. He was curious to see how this _sleep_ thing worked. "Thank you, Youngjae."

The medic rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled his feet as he looked down at him. 

"Yeah, of course," he said. "I'll--see you in the morning. Just follow the racket if you get hungry."

He was gone before Zelo thought to ask what he meant. 

Unimportant. He stared at the ceiling. 

"Sleep," he commanded himself. 

He stared at the ceiling. Sleep did not come.

"Welp," he said.

*

Himchan cleaned himself up at the sink in the corner while Jongup enjoyed the view of his ass from bed. It was gone too soon, slipped under his pants. Then his shirt and jacket were donned, hair adjusted. By the time this ritual was completed, Jongup's Himchan was gone and the commander was back. 

Well, almost. 

He caught Jongup looking and smiled, the soft affectionate smile Jongup only ever saw in private.

"You still blissed out over there?" Himchan said, his words cocky but his tone gentle.

"Mm. Maybe."

Himchan twitched the crumpled sheet from under Jongup's feet and draped it over him. 

"Get some sleep. Dream of all the crazy Sentinel shit you get to play with  tomorrow. And _wear your lenses_ this time, you're gonna give yourself a migraine--" Jongup wanted to laugh at his fussing. He wanted to capture his wrist and tug him back down to bed, to make him _stay_ for once. 

But that wasn't how their particular dance worked, so he gave him an insolent grin instead. 

"Yes _sir_ ," he said. Something stiffened in Himchan's expression and he opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. 

"Whatever," he said instead, and kissed Jongup lightly--a perfunctory kiss now, not a real one, signaling the end of a transaction. The night was over. Jongup watched him go with a familiar, almost angry ache in his gut.

It had started two years earlier, five months after Jongup had first laid eyes on Himchan and Cheonsa. Daehyun had brought Youngjae on by then, and they were all still figuring out how they fit together. They'd just finished a job and were celebrating with a night on Jeju station. 

It was one of the largest hubs with docks for thousands of ships. Jongup hadn't seen so many people in one place in years. The five of them wound up at one of the bars, Daehyun buying round after round of some electric blue shots that tasted like fire and went down like ice. Even Yongguk partook, dissolving into rare fits of giggles with the pilot across the table. Youngjae left to meet up with some old friends stationed there (if that was the real reason; the medic wasn't much of a drinker). 

Himchan and Jongup wound up dragging their captain and pilot back to the ship, being marginally more sober. 

"Let 'em sleep it off," Himchan panted, drop-pushing Yongguk onto his bunk. Jongup gave Daehyun the same treatment on his. He felt oddly light on his feet. Back in the corridor, without Daehyun to anchor him, he swayed a bit and Himchan put out a hand to steady him.

"Easy there, Moon," he said, his voice low and amused. On his lips, Jongup's surname took on the affectionate timbre of a nickname. He liked it.

"I'm good," he said, rocking to stillness and stepping closer to the other man in the process. Himchan's smirk faded, leaving something openly fond in its place.

It had happened before, Himchan's control slipping so for just a minute he wasn't the composed second-in-command, armed with a sharp observation or shielded by his barbed sense of humor. Moments when he was just Himchan, kind and slightly goofy, vulnerable from some old hurt Jongup still didn't know. But he knew he liked this Himchan. He lived for the moments he came out, when he let Jongup really see him. Each one felt like a gift, though probably they had nothing to do with Jongup at all. It happened when Himchan was especially tired, or like now, tired and drunk.

"You should go to bed," Jongup told him, because this Himchan always brought up something protective in his chest. 

Himchan's eyes were unwavering on his. 

"Bed, right," he said.

Looking back, Jongup couldn't quite remember how it happened. He knew at some point there were Himchan's fingers pulling him in by his belt loops. He'd slipped his own hands past Himchan's jacket, felt the heat of his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Then somehow they wound up in Himchan's bunk and Himchan's lips were on Jongup's pulse while Jongup tugged his belt off.

(This part he remembered with almost painful clarity. The way Himchan had gasped when Jongup palmed him. The way the way he'd rolled them over so he was looking down at Jongup. The long pause as Jongup almost thought he was going to think better of what they were about to do, and then his relief when Himchan kissed him instead.)

It hadn't been like any first time Jongup had ever had with anyone else, even before it led to the eventual unprecedented second time (third time, tenth time...). It was a relief when they didn't talk about it after--talking, he was sure, would have broken whatever spell they were under. 

But two years was a long time to go without talking, especially to someone who usually talked as much as Himchan. Jongup knew his own reasons for not wanting to hash it out or commit. He knew it was unfair to expect anything from Himchan when his own plans could mean him leaving Cheonsa at a moment's notice. 

But Himchan's disinterest in them becoming anything more than this bothered Jongup every time.

Ugh, enough already. Jongup tucked the memories away.

The faint scent of sex permeated the room. He rolled onto his stomach and breathed deep. Now he could smell Himchan's shampoo on his pillow. 

It wasn't as good as falling asleep beside him, but it was better than nothing.

*

Daehyun awoke to the acrid taste of adrenaline. He'd been dreaming again. 

He didn't give himself the chance to remember, resolutely pushing aside the mental cobwebs along with his blankets and rolling out of bed. He winced at the feel of the metal grate pressing into his bare feet even as he relished the cold, jerking him fully into wakefulness. 

Some searching unearthed a pair of clean socks and a more-or-less fresh pair of pants. He pulled them on, splashed his face, and dragged a shirt over his head on the way out the door.

He was never one to linger in his bunk in the mornings. He didn't relish his absolute solitude the way Yongguk did, would never consider spreading out on his cot with a book and a drink the way Himchan sometimes did. The four walls had a way of pressing in on Daehyun and limiting his lung capacity. 

The rest of the ship was better. Cheonsa's corridors were a narrow tangle, true, but they all _went_ somewhere, and Daehyun's cockpit had _windows_. He never understood how Jongup could stand to practically live in the viewless engine room, even if it was one of the biggest spaces in the ship. At least the crazy swing-and-pulley system he'd rigged up meant he wasn't limited to the floor, so he spent half his time dangling from the ceiling ten meters up, working on his beloved engine.

It was a calling, Daehyun supposed. He preferred his own.

He went to the 'pit first, always. 

"Good morning," he murmured to his control panel, running deft hands over it, checking their location against the course he'd plotted. Good old Cheonsa always ran true. 

Then to the window, right up against the curve of the glass so he could see nothing but space in front, above, and around him. He joked to the others that this was his way of photosynthesizing, but that was honestly what it felt like. He imagined the stars flooding him with...friendly radiation, or something. Or maybe just with the reminder that he was free, he was alive, he was free he was free he was free.

Then to the mess to make breakfast. 

And _coffee_ , oh God. They'd run out weeks ago and it was the first thing Himchan went for when they docked. Daehyun had teased him at the time, but now he was grateful. He breathed in the beans before pouring some into the grinder.

He turned around and jumped at the sight of the figure standing behind him. Coffee beans scattered everywhere; he barely managed to keep from dropping the bag altogether.

"Aishhh! You scared me," he said reproachfully. His heart was going haywire in his chest. Zelo frowned.

"I'm...sorry," he said. He bent, and for a moment Daehyun thought he was bowing in apology, but he was merely picking up the coffee beans, neatly, placing them one-by-one in his palm. Daehyun watched him for a beat, hand pressed against his chest. Then he set the bean bag on the counter and knelt to help. Himchan would kill him if he let the spilled coffee go to waste.

"You're very stealthy," he told Zelo. "I didn't hear you at all." He was so big it seemed impossible that he could go undetected. Daehyun made a note of it.

"Thank you," Zelo said after a pause. He stood again and poured his palmful of beans back into their bag. "I heard a...racket."

The word sounded funny coming from him.

"I didn't mean to be loud," Daehyun said. In fact, he was fairly certain he hadn't been. He wondered if Zelo had enhanced hearing. He'd have to ask Youngjae to check. There was so much they didn't know. 

He battled his own suspicion. Sure, Sentinels were strong and fast and objectively dangerous. But Zelo wasn't a Sentinel anymore. Right?

"Do you like coffee?" he asked, returning to the task, trying to ignore the way the back of his neck prickled with awareness of the other man behind him. 

"I'm not sure," Zelo said.

"I guess you wouldn't have needed it if you always...I dunno, recharged or whatever, before," Daehyun reasoned. He ground out a portion of the beans and turned on the pot to brew before turning back. 

Zelo hadn't moved. He was standing a bit knock-kneed in the same gray onesie they'd found him in, giving him the look of an outrageously overgrown toddler. It was so endearing Daehyun relaxed a bit.

"Why don't we find you some real clothes?" he suggested.

*

Yongguk woke late, as he often did--side effect of being the last to get to sleep. He was used to it by now and had stopped beating himself up for it. Mostly.

The halls smelled of coffee, but the kitchen was empty. He poured himself a cup and drank half of it slowly, leaning against the counter, eyeing the scraps of food left over from the crew's breakfast. Then he made his way to the medbay, where he found Himchan leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed.

"Morning," he greeted him. 

Yongguk passed him his coffee cup and watched his eyes crease in a smile as he took a sip of the peace offering. Yongguk still felt a bit guilty about inviting Zelo to stay before discussing it with the others. Of course Himchan had been upset; he'd lost his father and sister in the final massacre with the Sentinels. Yongguk had been knocked out in the battle, waking days later to the new world order of the ceasefire, and a Kim Himchan who was quieter and sadder than the man he'd been before.

Yongguk accepted his mug back and peered into the room. 

Zelo was seated on the exam table. They'd found him some clothes; a persistent grease stain on the sleeve of the t-shirt betrayed it as an old one of Jongup's and the pants might have been Himchan's. Apparently they hadn't found a pair of boots that fit; his bare feet were pressed tightly together, the left over the right, his toes curled under. There was something so vulnerable about this that it made Yongguk's chest ache. 

Youngjae stood before Zelo beside an array of tools and scanners, while Jongup was at a second exam table behind, the Sentinel armor spread out before him like a patient. Youngjae glanced up at the sound of Himchan's greeting.

"How's it going this morning?" Yongguk asked, slipping into the room. He smiled at Zelo. "Did you sleep?"

"...Yes," Zelo replied in a way that clearly meant _not much._

"It's hard in a strange place. We'll clear out some bunk space for you if you decide to stay, then you can have your own room. That might help." Yongguk wasn't sure whether he wanted him to accept the invitation or not. He wasn't sure how pure his own motives were. 

His dreams had been of that ring of Sentinel ships around Mato. Not robots after all, but humans. If they could figure out what made Zelo tick, surely they could use the information to help their people, to take back their home. He'd long since stopped hoping for such a thing. It felt strange to start again.

"Thank you, Captain," Zelo said. "Youngjae suggested I might just need practice."

"Practice sleeping?" Yongguk said, arching an eyebrow.

"Something _you_ might try, too," Youngjae muttered darkly. Yongguk waved him off. 

"I sleep fine," he said. "So?"

"Right. Well. Zelo here's in great health," Youngjae began. "His suit's equipped to keep him that way, supplying him with nutrients even when it's otherwise deactivated, regulating his body temperature, all that good stuff."

Yongguk read between the lines to understand that Youngjae still had no idea how long Zelo might have been in that warehouse. It would have been easier to tell if his physical condition had deteriorated somewhat. He didn't think he needed to say so out loud, though.

"Good," he told Zelo. "That's good."

He looked past them at Jongup, who was focused on the armor. He seemed to sense his gaze and glanced up. Yongguk couldn't read his expression, which was the total blank Jongup got when he was thinking hard. Yongguk motioned to him and gave Youngjae a pointed look. 

"Let me know if you need anything," he said. The medic waved him away. 

"Course," he said. 

Yongguk left, Jongup at his heels, and they joined Himchan. The three went to the engine room where they wouldn't be overheard. 

"Well?" Yongguk said. 

"I was looking at his transceiver," Jongup said immediately. "I think we have a problem."

"Just one?" Himchan said. 

"Actually, no. Probably a couple," Jongup corrected. Himchan made a face at Yongguk.

"I had to ask."

"What is it?" Yongguk said. 

"The transceiver's how Zelo gets his orders from the NRA. But it seems like he could use it to communicate with _them_ , too. I haven't found any obvious damage to it," Jongup said. "I'm pretty sure he can use it any time."

Yongguk tensed. "So he could give us up to the NRA whenever he wants." This definitely qualified as a problem. If they were caught with an unregistered Sentinel, they could be executed. Jongup just nodded.

"Can you configure our systems so we could detect the outgoing transmission if he did?" Himchan spoke up. Jongup brightened slightly. 

"I already did. Nothing so far."

"Kind of begs the question of why not," Himchan mused.  

Yongguk thought back to Zelo's face the night before as he ate real food for once. "Maybe he doesn't want to," he said. "Maybe he likes thinking for himself for a change."

"Maybe." His friend looked doubtful.

 Yongguk's radio gave a whine of feedback and Daehyun's voice filtered through, tinny and slightly distorted.

" _Hey, Cap, you busy?"_

They all caught the tension in the pilot's voice. Daehyun only ever used their ranks when there was a problem. Yongguk tapped his radio.

"What's wrong?"

_"Hopefully nothing, but we've got a heat sig."_

Yongguk's eyes snapped to Himchan's. A heat signature meant another ship. They were still far out enough they could have easily gone another two days before meeting anyone. 

"NRA?" he asked tersely. 

There was a long pause. Yongguk bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself repeating the question. Daehyun would be working as quickly as possible.

Himchan had his arms crossed tightly and was staring intently at nothing. Jongup shifted from foot to foot beside him while they waited.

A curse from Daehyun and Yongguk's heart managed to sink and speed up at once. Zelo must have gotten a transmission out after all. Yongguk cursed himself. Was he seriously such a sucker that all it took was one doe-eyed kid for him to endanger his entire crew?

But, _"Not NRA,"_ Daehyun said. _"Captain, we've got a Jackdaw freighter five thousand kilometers to port."_

There was no time for relief. Yongguk's heartbeat had a head start but it kicked into high gear now. 

"I'm on weapons," Himchan said immediately, clapping Jongup on the shoulder on his way out the door. The mechanic had gone pale.

"Be ready to give the engines everything they've got," Yongguk told him. Jongup nodded once. 

Yongguk barreled his way to the cockpit. The other ship filled the viewscreen. It was too chaotic a thing make out much, save for the trademark red stripes that covered all Jackdaw vessels.

"They seen us yet?" Yongguk asked tersely. Daehyun didn't look around.

"We're too close for them to've missed us."

Yongguk didn't need to ask how they could have gotten so close without Daehyun seeing _them_ ; the pirates were adept at hiding their heat sigs, the better to get the jump on unsuspecting ships. NRA, Matoki, civilian, it made no difference to Jackdaws. 

They'd spread through the system during the war, teams of ruthless scavengers unwilling to pick a side save their own. The pirates were utterly merciless, stripping any ship unfortunate enough to cross their path. They weren't known for taking prisoners. If there was a group Yongguk hated almost as much as the NRA, it was them.

_"What's happening?"_ Himchan demanded over the radio. _"I'm not seeing any signs of life over there, are you?"_

It was true; they were getting closer to the other ship, but it seemed to be...drifting. 

"I don't know," Daehyun said in frustration, fingers dancing across the scanner. "They're still powered up--kind of--so I wouldn't think they're abandoned, but they look dead in the water."

Yongguk squeezed in beside him to see for himself. 

"Look at this--one escape pod deployed--recently, by the looks of it," he said. 

"One wouldn't be enough for a crew that size. Could be a trap."

_"I'd agree, but that's a lot of trouble for a bucket like Cheonsa,"_ Himchan put in.

Yongguk let out a small growl. "I'll let that slide under the circumstances. You think we just keep going, see if they power up and come after us?"

The idea alone was enough to send a bitter shoot of adrenaline through him. Cheonsa might be able to outmaneuver the freighter, thanks to Daehyun's flying and Jongup's touch with the engines. But outrunning them would be another story.

He heard Himchan sigh over the radio.

_"You know I'd love nothing more than to get the fuck out of here."_

"Why do I sense a 'but' incoming?"

_"But we've got Zelo now, and we'll be back in populated space in a matter of days...Jackdaws have the best cloaking tech around; I'd feel a lot better about our odds of avoiding NRA attention if we had some of it."_

Yongguk thought quickly, tried to think of another way. Even if the Jackdaw ship was as abandoned as it looked, the idea of scavenging from the pirates and bringing their tech onto Cheonsa repulsed him. 

But Himchan was right. Better this than an NRA seizure. 

He caught Daehyun's eye and the pilot gave him a reluctant nod. 

"Fine," he told Himchan. "Take the Albatross and get over there. Take Jongup with you."

There was a long pause and Yongguk frowned. This was what Himchan wanted, wasn't it?

_"Got it_ ," his second-in-command said finally. 

"I'll take over weapons," Yongguk told Daehyun. The pilot just nodded. His hands rested on the controls, ready to send Cheonsa into a defensive dive should the freighter so much as twitch. 

*

Yongguk ducked into the weapons array. 

"Remember the aft blaster always pulls to the right about two degrees," Himchan said needlessly. 

"I know," Yongguk said. "It'll be all right." 

Himchan gave him a half smile that faded quickly. 

"Hope so. But if you're wrong--if I give you the signal, start firing. Don't wait for us to get out of there. If there are Jackdaws, you'll be doing us a favor."

He wasn't kidding. Yongguk would never forget that Himchan's ship had once been boarded by the pirates. It was a miracle he'd survived.

"What's the signal?" he asked.

"Probably just, y'know, me screaming over the radio," Himchan said, and Yongguk let out a laugh and a whoosh of breath at once. Himchan gave him that half-smile again. "Or if they make a move. Don't hesitate, Bbang."

"You know I won't." 

He turned to go but Yongguk stopped him with a hand to the elbow. "Himchan?" 

He turned back, eyebrows raised. He'd gone into full-on commander mode, no-nonsense. This version was hard to reconcile with the man who routinely bickered with Daehyun over who had drunk the last cup of coffee, who fussed over Jongup, joked with Youngjae. That Himchan was his brother. This Himchan was who he'd gone through the war with, the man he'd chosen as his second-in-command.

"Be careful," was all he said. 

*

Jongup met Himchan outside the engine room. 

"Yongguk wants us to take the Albatross over," Himchan told him. Jongup tensed but only nodded. 

The Albatross was their shuttle and of a far sleeker design than the Cheonsa, thanks to Jongup's work building it. Himchan had always liked flying it, the controls responding so readily to his commands. Today, though, he found no pleasure in the task as he steered the small ship out of the bay.

He explained the mission to Jongup, which took about five seconds, leaving plenty of time for them to contemplate how stupid this probably was. Really, this was what Himchan got for speaking up.

Normally he was more than happy to get into trouble, was never one to back down from a fight.

But he remembered the Jackdaws too well.

Their ships were all different, cobbled together as they were from other ships they'd razed. This one looked nothing like the Jackdaw vessel that had boarded Himchan's small ship five years before.

Except for the blood-red stripes. They all had the stripes, the fucking drama queens.

It happened in the middle of the war. Himchan had been shuttled from ship to ship, same as all Matoki soldiers who survived this or that battle or siege. He was on the Warrior, then--a not-so-apt name, it turned out. 

The Jackdaws caught them unawares as they were limping back to base from a show-down with the NRA fleet. Himchan could still remember the crash of metal as the pirates docked with the Warrior. He'd been knocked out when they blasted through the wall to get onboard.

He came to a time later to Warrior's first officer, Woo Mina, shaking him awake, slipping an oxygen mask over his face. 

"C'mon, we have to move," she whispered. They were in a sea of their crew. Those closest to the blast were already dead. Himchan could dimly hear sounds of carnage from the rest of the ship: blaster fire and shouts and screams. But he let Mina pull him to his feet.

That was when they saw the Jackdaw.

He was alone in the doorway, just watching. Himchan had no idea how long he'd been there.

For a beat they all stared at each other. Himchan realized his weapon had been blown out of his hands in the explosion. The Jackdaw held a blaster at his side. He stared at them, then glanced behind him down the hallway. He turned back.

"Go," he said. 

Himchan didn't know why--maybe the pirate figured they were dead anyway, maybe he was feeling generous, maybe he just didn't give a shit--but Mina had dragged Himchan into the nearest storage locker. They crouched together in the dark and it was less than a minute before they heard the sounds of other Jackdaws joining their benefactor. 

A minute after that, they cringed at the sound of the pirates firing into the pile of bodies laid out before them. Himchan flinched, sure he could _feel_ the blasts that would have torn through his body, had Mina been just a few seconds slower. 

He didn't know how long they waited. The Jackdaws were efficient, stripping their ship of useful parts and weaponry. When they departed, they left a gaping hole in the side of the Warrior. Himchan and Mina clutched their masks to their faces, but it wasn't a lack of oxygen that would kill them. The cold of space would get them first.

They'd been lucky--again--that another Matoki ship happened by and stopped to look for survivors. 

Himchan had been all but unconscious when the locker door was wrenched open. The space-suited soldier who found them looked like a demon to Himchan's oxygen-deprived mind, his mask running on fumes by that point. 

But he'd crouched and hooked up fresh air to both his and Mina's masks, and Himchan realized he'd had it wrong. Angel, not demon.

"Are you alive?" The soldier's voice was muffled behind his mask.

"You...tell...me," Himchan managed, and he heard a slightly wheezy laugh in response.

That was how he found himself on the Chiquita, wrapped in a heated blanket in their medbay. Mina was asleep when a skinny soldier made his way over to them. 

"You're looking better," he said, and Himchan recognized the deep voice of the soldier who had found them.

"Thanks to you," he said. 

"Didn't think we'd find any survivors at all," the soldier said. "You two were the best part of my day." He held out a hand. "I'm Yongguk."

They'd been through countless skirmishes together since then, had cheated death so many times. But Himchan still woke up some nights in a cold sweat, the sound of blaster fire echoing in his ears, his body shaking with imagined hits.

Basically, fuck the Jackdaws.

He glanced at Jongup, who was taking sensor readouts of the freighter as they approached. 

"No signs of life," he said. "But it's not like the Jackdaws to leave behind a functioning ship, either."

"Well, great. As long as we _know_ we're probably walking into a trap," Himchan said dryly. "We'll take the back door in."

The freighter was even more menacing up close. Himchan could clearly see the different ships that it was comprised of, giving it the appearance of a single body formed of many corpses. He wondered how many people the pirates had killed to build it.

He docked and he and Jongup sat frozen for a second, waiting for the behemoth beneath them to wake, to shake them off. But all was silent.

"Hyung?" 

He met Jongup's worried eyes and tried to smile. "So far so good," he said. "If you've got a stealth mode, this would be the time to use it."

Jongup nodded solemnly and tapped the top of his head, then Himchan's. 

"Stealth mode activated," he said. Himchan rolled his eyes but his heartbeat seemed to slow its frantic thumping just a hair. As always, he was glad for Jongup's company, odd as it might be.

They suited up with oxygen masks and blasters. 

"Stay close," he told Jongup, then hit his radio.

"Cheonsa, you on?"

_"Here,"_ Yongguk said promptly. 

"We're going in."

_"We've got you in our sights. Be careful."_

They went in. Himchan half expected to be met by a bristling wall of armed Jackdaws, but the corridor was empty, the ship eerily silent. He and Jongup exchanged a glance, the mechanic's dark eyes wary. He gave Himchan a nod and they proceeded into the ship. 

The lights were flickering overhead, which was very 21st century horror film of them. A little on the nose, in Himchan's opinion--an opinion only reinforced when they turned the corner and saw the first splashes of blood. 

The Jackdaws had been fucked after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Jongup grabbed Himchan's elbow, ready to haul him back to the ship. They stood frozen, looking at the carnage spread out before them. He counted twelve...no, fourteen...no, _thirteen_ ; that one was just in two pieces...Jackdaws splayed out in the corridor. The floor under them was slick with blood. 

Himchan's second blaster was out before Jongup registered him grabbing for it. But there was no one to shoot. The crew was painfully, obviously dead.

"I guess that explains that," Himchan muttered. Yongguk's voice over the radio made them both jump.

_"What is it?"_

"We've got about a dozen dead Jackdaws. They were mown down, this is--it's bad." Himchan glanced back at Jongup swiftly, eyes searching. Jongup swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat--the smell was thick in here--and nodded once. 

_"Be careful,"_ Yongguk said. _"Whoever did it probably took that escape pod, but they could still be around."_

"We won't do anything brave except as a last resort," Himchan assured him. He began to move again. Jongup let him go reluctantly. 

They had to step over the dead to get past. Jongup's eyes were drawn to each of their faces, or what was left of them. Still, better their faces than their insides, spilling out onto the floor, or the arm that was only just hanging on by a pink stretch of sinew. They must have taken the blaster hits at close range to be ripped apart this way.

He stopped short at the sight of a scar running down one man's cheek.

_Jin?_

It couldn't be. He leaned in before he could stop himself. 

"Jongup?"

Himchan's voice pulled him back and he flinched, blinking hard down at the Jackdaw in question. Okay, the scar was familiar, but this man was a decade older than Jin and the shape of his nose was all wrong. This was just another dead stranger. He closed his eyes for a long minute, then opened them to find Himchan watching him closely.

"Friend of yours?" he asked, and Jongup blanched. But then Himchan smiled slightly--of course, he was only joking. Jongup rolled his eyes at him. He wished he could muffle his heartbeat with a pillow; surely Himchan could hear it pounding. But he only squeezed his arm gently and moved away. Jongup allowed himself a final glance down at the dead man. No one he knew. 

The blood squelched under their boots--then they were past. They made it to the end of the hall. Himchan nodded at Jongup, who held his blaster at the ready while Himchan shouldered open the hatch. There was no enemy to greet them. Jongup thought Yongguk was probably right; whoever had done this was gone by now. 

Still, it was eerie, making their way through the ghost ship, their footsteps reverberating down corridors that held only horrors. 

"This place is a damn maze," Himchan muttered. The Jackdaw tendency to simply keep building their ships outward with each new conquest made for a nonsensical layout. Still, some things were non-negotiable.

"Engines and command center are probably further in," Jongup said reluctantly. The deeper they went, the more he felt they were being devoured by some beast, the more he expected a hand to reach from one of the piles of bodies and grab at their ankles.

_You're being stupid_.

He couldn't help it. The ship made him feel like a kid again, and his childhood wasn't a place he wanted to revisit. 

He focused on Himchan as he led them through the ship: the steady set of his shoulders, his careful steps, the slight tilt of his head as he listened intently. His eyes would be constantly scanning their surroundings, Jongup knew. For all his jokes of cowardice, Himchan was the consummate soldier. Here, surrounded by unknown dangers, he was in his element.

Watching him helped. Jongup felt himself calming.

They skirted around another pair of Jackdaws, then Himchan stopped abruptly. Jongup tensed again, but Himchan was focused on the wall--or rather, on the scorch mark there. He touched it lightly with two fingers, then looked at Jongup. "Look familiar?"

It did. Jongup had worked salvage on so many ships that had been boarded at the end of the war; of course he recognized Sentinel blaster marks as readily as Himchan. 

"We wouldn't be able to detect a heat sig from a Sentinel, if that's who did this," he said. Himchan nodded. He'd clearly already worked this much out. The back of Jongup's neck prickled as he imagined a Sentinel stalking them through the ship. Still, there _was_ that launched escape pod...

Himchan flicked his radio on. "Bbang?"

_"Here."_

"Looks like a Sentinel took out these guys," Himchan said grimly. "Can you recalibrate our heat-seekers to scan for their armor? Likely they took off already, but--"

_"Better safe than sorry, yeah. Gimme a sec."_

A sec, in which they could only wait beside a pile of bodies. Jongup glanced nervously behind him again, but the hall was empty. 

"This makes two malfunctioning Sentinels in as many days," Himchan said quietly. "Does that seem right to you?"

"What makes you think it was malfunctioning?" Jongup asked. "The NRA's been trying to crack down on piracy since the war. Maybe they decided to get serious."

A squeal from the radio, painfully loud in the stillness, and a new voice.

_"Commander, I've calibrated your ship's sensors to scan for Sentinel armor, compensating for the Jackdaw vessel's blocking system,"_ Zelo said. Himchan stiffened slightly at the sound of his voice, his brow furrowing. _"There are no Sentinels onboard."_

_"Must've taken that missing pod,"_ Yongguk cut in. 

For a second, Jongup thought Himchan was going to chew him out for bringing Zelo into this--for choosing to trust him at this of all moments--but he only pursed his lips for a second.

"We were hoping as much," he said. "Thanks for checking." He shut off the radio and turned to Jongup. "Lead on."

*

"Are you _sure-_ sure, though?" Daehyun pressed. Zelo frowned down at the sensors, re-checking, though it was unnecessary. Of course he was sure-sure. He would never have said it if he wasn't.

"He's sure, Dae," Youngjae said, rolling his eyes. Zelo had noticed the medic rolled his eyes 43% more often while in the pilot's company. 

(He had begun storing this kind of information away as a test--how long and how much information could he fit in his own memory while his Memory Centers were damaged? 

He had already noted that Jongup's heartbeat increased by 6% when he was in the vicinity of the commander, and that the captain ate 16% less than the rest of the crew during meals. He added the medic's eye-rolling to the list, trying to suppress his nerves at the idea of losing--of _forgetting_ \--the observations. How did humans keep everything they needed in their heads? Memory was such a limited, imperfect thing.)

"I'm sure," he confirmed. "There are no Sentinels aboard the Jackdaw vessel."

Yongguk folded his arms and frowned at him. Zelo was also learning to distinguish the different frowns the crew deployed--so far there was Youngjae's worried frown and Himchan's suspicious one. Zelo thought Yongguk's was...thoughtful? His analysis was still a work in progress. The crew had so many _feelings._

"Any theories?" Yongguk said.

"Captain?"

"If a Sentinel killed all the Jackdaws, do you think they were ordered to do it?" Yongguk clarified. "Or is it possible there's another rogue Sentinel out there?"

" _There's_ a thought," Daehyun muttered darkly. 

Zelo hesitated at Yongguk categorizing him as _rogue_. He found he didn't dislike the idea.

He considered the question, noting the yearning in his chest at the thought of someone else like him out there somewhere. He wasn't used to being in any way unique. But they didn't have enough information to really activate his hopes.

"They could be acting on orders," he said. "Jackdaws were classified official enemies of the Alliance after their attack on the university fleet eleven years ago."

It was something of a relief to find he still had this information. Like the brief history of the war he'd given Youngjae, this was apparently either too deep in his Memory Centers to be reached by tampering, or else whoever had done the tampering hadn't thought it necessary to wipe.

Pirates had existed in space nearly as long as humans had begun to spread out among the stars, but they had only formed into the cancerous entity that was the Jackdaws shortly after the war began. 

Their first choice of target had been characteristically cruel. The university stations had been neutral territory, the schools home to students and teachers from Mato and the NRA alike. The Jackdaws struck, killing indiscriminately and either taking or destroying generations of collected knowledge. It was a declarative attack, letting everyone know that there would be a third major player in the  burgeoning war. 

Zelo could understand why the crew hated them so much.

He could see Yongguk thinking everything through, but before he could go on, Himchan was back on the radio.

_"We found the command center."_

*

There were a lot of dead bodies in here.

Jongup and Himchan stopped in the doorway, taking in the gore, splashed around like paint. In a way, Jongup was almost glad for it, as it distracted him from how familiar the room was. 

All Jackdaw command centers looked similar, and he'd spent plenty of time in them over the years. Unhappy memories threatened everywhere he looked: there, next to the weapons array, looked a lot like the spot where the Boss had slid his knife down Jongup's chest, giving him his best scar. Or over by the steps looked exactly like the place Jongup had turned his gun on his mother while she begged him to shoot. Good times.

Beside him, Himchan let out a soft sigh that was half a curse. Jongup let the back of his hand press against his for a beat, seeking comfort. He felt Himchan return the pressure. Then they separated, flanking the room.

Some of the Jackdaws had been killed where they sat, shot in the head. They'd been the lucky ones. Others had tried to run. They hadn't gotten far. 

"It started in here." Himchan's voice cut through the silence. Jongup gave him a questioning look. "The killing," Himchan said. "These guys never saw it coming." He stood over a man slumped in his seat, blood cooling on the console in front of him. "If it had started somewhere else, they would have been on alert."

Jongup frowned. This made sense, but--"Doesn't it seem weird they'd have a Sentinel in their CC?" he asked. "I'd think they'd be studying it. If it--he--really took them off guard, they must not have thought it was strange he was here."

Himchan matched his frown. "Good point."

_"Speculate later,"_ Yongguk said. Jongup kept forgetting the radio was on. _"See if there's anything useful, then get out of there. I've got a bad feeling about this."_

"Oh, _he's_ got a bad feeling about this, safe on Cheonsa," Himchan groused. "Sitting there with his feet up and a nice fresh cup of coffee--"

_"I can hear you, idiot."_

"Yes sir, Captain sir."

Jongup ignored the nervous bickering as he searched for what they needed. He wanted off this ship, he wanted _Himchan_ off this ship, he wanted away from the memories threatening to choke him.

_Focus, Jongup._

He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose for a moment. Okay, bad idea; everything smelled of blood and death. But when he opened his eyes, they landed on the communications console across the room. 

He went still. He'd spent almost three years searching for his old ship on his own, with no luck. The Jackdaw tech might actually get him somewhere. 

He glanced sideways at Himchan, who was grimacing down at a bloody control panel. Feeling Jongup's eyes on him, he spoke: "I'm not sure what I'm looking for."

Jongup knew exactly what they were looking for. His eyes slid past Himchan to the next console over, which controlled the Jackdaws' cloaking tech. 

"Well," he said slowly, as though considering. "It probably looks like our heat-seekers. Just more...complicated."

"All this shit looks complicated," Himchan muttered. 

Jongup glanced at the comm panel again, edging closer, calculating which piece would help him if he could get it back to Cheonsa. He tried to play it cool; if he made a beeline for it, Himchan would notice. 

"It's gotta be here somewhere," he said. "Keep looking."

Himchan grunted and leaned in to look at the console more closely and Jongup took his chance to close the gap to his prize. It was the work of a minute to unmoor the dish from its console, then he slipped it into his tool bag.

"Jongup?"

He jumped and turned guiltily, ready to explain--but Himchan had simply moved on and found what they were looking for. "Is this--?"

"Nice, hyung," Jongup told him, joining him. He had a bit of a pang, looking at the tech, but he pushed it away. 

"Can we get it out?" 

"Sure." Jongup put his tools down and slid under the panel on his back, glad there was no blood here. 

"What do you need?" 

He heard Himchan pick up his bag and he tensed. Shit. He'd put the dish in the inside pocket, but if Himchan saw it--

"Um. Lamp?" Jongup's voice cracked slightly. He heard Himchan rummaging, then a small light was tucked into his outstretched hand. He tried to breathe normally, tried to focus. Himchan wouldn't go digging through the inside pockets. He'd be focused on helping. It would be fine.

Himchan's hand slid around his ankle and up his calf, a comforting pressure. He must think Jongup was nervous to be here. He relaxed somewhat. This was _fine_.

He worked quickly, occasionally asking for some tool or other until he had the panel released.

"This is gonna be a pain to carry back to the ship," Himchan muttered and they hauled it out. "Do you think you can get it yourself?"

Jongup nodded, knowing he was worried about walking through the ship with their arms full, unable to defend themselves if Zelo's scan had been wrong and there was still some murderous Sentinel or surviving Jackdaw on board. 

"Yeah, I've got it," he said. "You can watch my back." 

Himchan's lips twitched into a smile. "Always."

Jongup ignored the rush of warmth to his belly the word gave him--this was really, emphatically not the time. "Should we take anything else?" he asked. "For Cheonsa?"

Himchan glanced around the room. 

"Ship's log?" he suggested. "Might give us some answers. If Jackdaws even keep logs."

It was a good idea. It was such a good idea, in fact, that Jongup couldn't believe he hadn't already thought of it. He nodded to a console across the room.

"There," he said. Himchan gave him a funny look and Jongup cursed himself--so much for stealth. But Himchan didn't ask how he'd been able to answer so quickly, and merely retrieved what they needed. "You'd know better than me if we should take anything else."

Jongup glanced around, too. The equipment here was in better shape than what he'd unburied in the warehouse. 

But it was also generally more blood-covered. Plus he knew it was a stretch for Yongguk to even allow this much Jackdaw tech onto Cheonsa, and he couldn't blame him.

"We'll be fine," he told Himchan. "Let's go home."

Himchan helped him load the panel into his arms. It would have been easier to carry it between the two of them but Jongup breathed easier seeing the weapon in Himchan's hand. There was no better shot in the system, he knew. 

Himchan pulled the tool bag onto his shoulder. Jongup led the way out of the command center, missing the way Himchan's eyes lingered on the communications console before he followed.

*

Yongguk didn't start breathing again until the Albatross was back in the docking bay. He raised Daehyun on the radio. 

"Get us the hell out of here."

_"Gladly."_

He felt the ship begin to move, felt his heartbeat steady in his chest. Beside him, Youngjae let out a breath in a whoosh. 

"Well, _that_ was thrilling," he said. He was still cranky; he'd been angry that no one had consulted him before Himchan and Jongup left for what he considered a suicide mission at worst and a _fucking idiotic_ one at best.

"If we can use their cloaking tech, it'll be a lot safer for Zelo--for all of us," Yongguk reminded him. He hit the release to open the door as soon as the indicator light showed the docking bay was pressurized, and he and Youngjae ducked inside. 

The Albatross's ramp was already lowered and Himchan and Jongup were carrying a large panel out between them. Yongguk let himself drink in the sight of his people, safely home. 

"You all right?" he asked. Himchan glanced at him. 

"Shoulda come with us, Bbang. Those were some _spectacularly_ dead Jackdaws, you would've loved it."

Yongguk frowned. "I don't love dead anyone," he said. 

"Oh, like there's no chance I was kidding." Himchan looked over the panel at Jongup, who Yongguk could see was still shaken. "Where d'you want this?"

Jongup looked around. "I guess here's okay for now." 

They set the panel down on the floor beside the Albatross and they all crowded around it. Youngjae touched the side of Jongup's neck and he flinched away, startled.

"You've got blood on you," Youngjae explained quietly.

"It's not mine."

"Zelo thinks the Sentinels who did this could have been acting on NRA orders," Yongguk told Himchan. 

"No way to be sure about that," Himchan said. He was watching Jongup through narrowed eyes. It was different than the look he normally gave the mechanic, which was softer and a bit subtler, though Yongguk always saw it. Himchan was a heart-on-his-sleeve kinda guy. He supposed today wasn't a normal day. "Where is he, anyway? Zelo?"

"He and Dae are bonding," Youngjae said. "Or whatever."

Yongguk turned to Jongup, who was still leaning over the salvaged panel. "Can you adapt it for Cheonsa?" he asked. 

"I need a few hours, but yeah."

"Do you need a hand?" Yongguk glanced at Himchan, who'd been Jongup's second hand as well as his own from the start, the two of them developing a verbal shorthand that made the work move quickly while Yongguk or Daehyun would have still been scratching their heads over exactly which of Jongup's tools he meant by "the one that looks annoyed."

"Nah, I'm...you know, I'm..." Jongup said distractedly. 

Yongguk and Youngjae looked at Himchan, who translated, "He just needs to stare at it for an hour, then he'll know what to do."

Jongup pointed at Himchan in a confirming way without looking away from the panel.

"C'mon," Himchan said. "Let's give him the room." He kicked Jongup's butt lightly. "Make sure to blink every ten minutes or so, yeah?" 

Jongup just hummed. Himchan rolled his eyes and followed Yongguk out of the cargo bay. They didn't go far, halting in the narrow corridor just outside.

"You told Zelo what we were doing," Himchan accused. Yongguk sighed.

"I told _Jae_ what you were doing. Zelo just happened to be there."

"He offered to help as soon as you said it was another Sentinel," Youngjae spoke up. "To run the scan for us."

"That's not suspicious at all," Himchan said dryly. 

"You made it out safely, didn't you?" 

"I watched him run the scan, Channie," Yongguk interrupted hastily. Once these two started bickering, there was little that could stop them. "We would've seen if he--y'know, tried something."

"Normally I'd agree with your confidence, Bbang, but--" Himchan took a breath and visibly calmed himself. "Look, obviously it worked out. But we still don't know exactly what we're dealing with where he's concerned, and I don't think we should take any more chances unless we have to."

Yongguk didn't argue. He turned to Youngjae.

"You've spent the most time with him. Impressions?"

Youngjae blinked a few times. "Well. He's very tall, isn't he?"

Himchan punched his shoulder and Youngjae rubbed it. " _Violent_ ," he complained. "He's--there's someone in there, I think. A real person, not just whoever the NRA programmed him to be. We were talking about the war--I just wanted to see what he knew, try to see if he remembered it at all--and he said what the NRA did to Mato was _wrong_. And I don't think he was just saying what I wanted to hear."

"So you think we can trust him," Yongguk pressed. Youngjae cocked his head, smiling a little.

"I didn't say that." He paused, considering. "I think he liked _Star Wars,_ though, so that's something."

"Oh good," Himchan said. "I can't believe we were ever worried."

"Hey, apparently he could've tattled on us to the NRA any time, but he hasn't," Youngjae shot back. 

"He didn't _tell_ us he could do that, either," Himchan pointed out. 

"I know, but--isn't it fair enough if he's not sure how much to trust us?" Youngjae said. "Jongup said his Memory Centers were really wiped, so--doesn't that mean that whoever he is now has to be more than some NRA tool?"

"I hope so," Yongguk said honestly. Himchan straightened up. 

"Well," he said. "There's nothing for it. You'll just have to do your Captain Bang thing."

"My...?"

"You know, bond with the kid, make him feel welcome, show him around the ship--the non-essential stuff, at least. Make the case for why he shouldn't turn us over to his old bosses. I mean, don't _tell him_ that's what you're doing, but."

It wasn't a bad idea. Yongguk thought Zelo seemed honestly curious about them. The cynic in him muttered darkly that this was probably only to get more intel on them he could pass on, but the rest of him wondered. The damaged inhibitor had turned Zelo's own brain on like a light; to return to the NRA would probably turn it off one way or the other. Maybe Zelo was worried about more than simply following orders.

Plus, Yongguk was the captain. He should try to get to know the guy he'd let onto his ship.

"Okay," he agreed. "I think I know where to start."

*

Zelo followed Yongguk through the bowels of the ship. He made a mental note of the layout, memorizing it as best he could, but he couldn't help being distracted. Daehyun had given him a pair of fluffy socks in lieu of a fitting pair of boots, and the way they muffled the feel of the metal grated floor was so _nice_. Squashy.

He was also doing a bit of recalculating. Jongup and Himchan had gone onto a Jackdaw freighter, alone, to retrieve tech that could help Cheonsa avoid NRA attention. The only thing Cheonsa had that would draw NRA attention in the first place was Zelo. 

He wasn't so stupid as to think they weren't protecting themselves, but, whether intentionally or not, they were also protecting him. This seemed important.

"So, this is the garden," Yongguk said, pulling open a hatch. A warm, mineral smell flooded the hall before Zelo followed him into the room. 

He stopped and stared.

This was a lot of green for a spaceship.

It was hard to tell how large the space was because the plants blocked the view. Vines trailed the walls; one was covered in purple blossoms. There were several large standing racks in the middle of the room and plants burst from every shelf. Zelo followed Yongguk in, squinting under the sun lamps. 

A large bottom shelf held potatoes, and from another he detected the sharp scent of onions. Herbs on a middle shelf, a soft array of greens. He touched a feathery leaf with his thumb and forefinger, then examined his fingers. 

"...Soap?" He said, frowning at the captain. Yongguk chuckled.

"Cilantro. Youngjae puts it on everything."

They kept going, past a tray of long spiky peppers, a tall tray with budding tomatoes. Then a series of empty racks. 

"We ran through most of our vegetable stores on our last job," Yongguk explained. "We try to keep the seeds of stuff so the garden's self-sustaining, but for some reason they didn't really take this time. We got some new ones on the station where we found you." He motioned to a pile of seed packets on the shelf. 

Zelo just nodded, still suffused with wonder. He touched the dirt, rubbing it between his fingers. 

"I've never been in a garden before," he said. He was getting better at searching his memories, and he was pretty sure this was the truth. Yongguk cocked his head. 

"Have you ever been on a planet?" he asked. 

"I don't think so." Zelo couldn't tell how far back his vague memories stretched, but they were uniformly gray, stations and ships. His eyes kept drawing back to the shocking purple of the flowers on the wall. "This is," he had to swallow. His throat clicked. "This is new."

"Well." Yongguk motioned to the empty racks. "I was thinking--we usually take turns in here, but if you decide to stay, this might be something you could take over for us."

Zelo let his fingers rest in the soil again, mind racing. To stay would be to accept this new loneliness in his mind. It would be to resign himself to no longer just _knowing_ what he needed to know. It would be to remain forever in this halfway point between human and machine.

The soil was damp in his hand. It was the source of the mineral smell he'd noticed. The idea that he could take some seeds and nurse them into the riotous growth and _color_ of those first few rows...well. That sounded a lot more interesting than what he remembered of his old jobs.

"I think," he said slowly, tasting the words. "I'd like that."

*

"D'you think he'll really stay?" Daehyun asked. He was pacing. It was not un-annoying. 

Youngjae focused on what he was doing. Or he tried, anyway. This was his own fault. He'd just filled the pilot in on what he'd missed with Zelo's transceiver, and now, predictably, he was freaking out. 

"How should I know?"

"You've spent the most time with him."

"Why does everyone think I learned so much from watching a movie with him and falling asleep halfway through it?"

"Hey, he didn't kill you when you let yourself be all _stupidly vulnerable._ " Daehyun punctuated his point with a jab of the finger to Youngjae's shoulder. "In front of a _Sentinel_ ," he added, as if Youngjae might not have gotten it.

He reached for strength. 

"I thought you felt sorry for him?" he said, pushing his hand away. The pilot scowled. 

"That doesn't mean I'm ready to cuddle up to the guy," he said. Youngjae snorted. Daehyun was the cuddliest person on the ship. He was the cuddliest person Youngjae had ever _met_. 

Of course, he hadn't always been that way. When they first met in the Medical Fleet, Daehyun had been a shadow of the man he was now. He'd wound up on Youngjae's rotation after his release from an NRA prison ship. Back then he'd been silent, his eyes too large for his unnaturally hollow-cheeked face, his posture basically broadcasting _stay away._

Youngjae had always liked a challenge. 

He'd been new to the Medical Corps and still finding his way on the fleet. The days were long, the line of patients endless. He got used to treating people's wounds without ever learning their names, or often even looking at their faces. Triage was the order of the day as the war ramped up into high gear.

Then there was Daehyun. He'd been almost catastrophically undernourished, and scans showed the echoes of too many broken bones. He needed daily nutrient doses and bone strengtheners. The general who brought him in informed Youngjae that he was a pilot of Mato and his recovery was a priority. They needed him back in the war.

Youngjae didn't need a degree to see that Daehyun was in no way ready to return to battle. Malnutrition aside, he barely slept, and had tremors in both hands. If he got into a cockpit, Youngjae was sure he would implode. 

Daehyun took the pills Youngjae gave him. He was unfailingly polite and quiet, and compliant enough that when he didn't show up for his appointment one day, Youngjae noticed. 

He didn't go rushing off to find him; he had a full shift to work, after all. But as soon as he finished, he'd found Daehyun's quarters in the registry. 

Youngjae wasn't sure what to expect when he got there--except that wasn't really true. But he didn't want to think of the sad-eyed pilot hurting himself or worse, so he didn't allow the possibility into his head. Sometimes denial was all you had to get through the day. 

In any case, Daehyun answered the door when he knocked. Aside from even darker-than-usual circles under his eyes, he looked fine, if surprised to see Youngjae. 

"You didn't show up today," Youngjae chided. Daehyun tilted his head slightly. 

"I overslept."

"Oh. Well, good." Chronic exhaustion hadn't been helping Daehyun's condition any. 

Daehyun's brow furrowed and he took in Youngjae's med kit. 

"I didn't know you made house calls," he said. His voice was so soft Youngjae had to strain to hear him. 

"Well. I don't, usually," he admitted. "I was. Worried about you. Whatever."

Daehyun's confusion faded to be replaced with the faintest of smirks. Youngjae busied himself with his kit. "Are you going to let me in or not?" he said, then shouldered Daehyun aside without waiting for an answer. 

He didn't stay long, but that day changed things nevertheless. The next time he saw Daehyun, the pilot gave him a small smile. In time, they started talking. Every so often, Daehyun would miss an appointment and Youngjae would make another house call. But he worried about him less.

Eventually, he'd forget how he'd ever thought of Daehyun as _quiet_. Mostly-good-natured bickering became part of their routine as Youngjae realized Daehyun responded best when he wasn't treated as something fragile. This worked out well, because he was stronger than he realized.

It was a few months before yet another missed appointment, the first in a while. Youngjae went to Daehyun's quarters after his shift, not thinking anything of it.

But the pilot was gone. He'd been called back to the front with no time for goodbyes. 

Youngjae had returned to his old routine, telling himself he didn't miss the evenings in Daehyun's quarters, or the welcome break in his day that the pilot's appointments had come to be. He resigned himself to the knowledge that they wouldn't see each other again--and they didn't, for almost two years, when Daehyun cropped up again unexpectedly. Now, still more years later, here they were.

Funny old life.

These days Daehyun never missed the opportunity to remind Youngjae that once upon a time he'd been _worried_ about him. Ugh. He'd never live that down. 

"Are you listening to me?" Daehyun was asking, still poking Youngjae's shoulder. 

"No," Youngjae said irritably, leaving the _obviously_ unspoken. 

"I'm saying it's maybe not the smartest idea for us to have a guy around who could sell us out to the NRA any time."

"Pretty sure we have to live with it for the moment, so we'd better not annoy him," Youngjae agreed. " _You_ should definitely give him his space."

"Very nice," Daehyun said disdainfully. He perched on Youngjae's workspace, which was not necessarily an improvement over the pacing. "Hey, I wanted to ask--does he have like enhanced hearing or something?"

It was always a little frustrating when Daehyun switched from being irritating to totally reasonable in the space of two seconds. All of Youngjae's annoyance had nowhere to go.

"Um. Yeah, I think so. He definitely has enhanced vision," he said, rolling with the punches like a champ. 

"What about strength? Reflexes? 'Cause the Sentinels on my old ship were _fast_ when they weren't just, you know. Looming and glaring."

"What makes you so sure they were glaring? They could've been sleeping for all you know."

"You can't loom and _sleep_ , stupid." Daehyun swung his legs ruminatively. Youngjae just managed to dodge an incidental kick. "Look, I'm saying, whether he stays or not, you should be careful. You're too nice."

Youngjae stopped in his tracks and looked around the medbay wildly. Daehyun frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for something to write down the exact date and time you called me _nice_."

"I--don't think that was me."

"It was you. It was the you-est you've ever been."

"That doesn't even make sense. Anyway, nothing tops you tracking me down that time because you were _worried_ about me." Daehyun batted his eyelashes and Youngjae stifled a groan. Good thing he had an ace up his sleeve.

"What about you tracking _me_ down after two _years_?" he asked smugly. The smile dropped from Daehyun's face. Ha! Check _that_ mate, asshole.

"Don't change the subject. We're talking about Zelo right now."

"Right. You were just telling me how scared of him you are. Carry on."

The pilot glared. "I don't like you."

"Good thing we're in the medbay. There must be _something_ around here for my broken heart."

Daehyun kicked him.


	5. Chapter 5

This time, when he turned around and found Zelo standing right behind him, Daehyun didn't drop anything. He maybe didn't deserve credit for this since he wasn't _holding_ anything, but still, progress.

"I'm getting you a bell," he said sternly. Zelo cocked his head. "So you can't sneak up on me every morning," Daehyun explained. 

"I could walk louder," Zelo suggested. 

Daehyun narrowed his eyes. He'd been debating with Jongup about whether Zelo had a sense of humor; there were times like this when he'd say something that brushed against the funny, but opinions were divided on whether it was intentional.

Well, Daehyun's opinions were divided. Jongup hadn't really said much. He'd been withdrawn since the Jackdaw freighter. 

Daehyun got it. Himchan's description of the ship had been gruesome, and while Jongup was generally unflappable, he'd never been great with blood. Daehyun remembered the time Himchan was caught in a refinery explosion on a job and nearly lost his leg. Jongup had practically passed out at the sight. Kid was soft.

He brushed the memory away, focusing on Zelo. For now, it was probably safest to assume any humor was accidental. 

"Or you could just, like, say good morning when you come in," he said. Zelo nodded.

"Good morning," he said belatedly. "Can I help you with anything?" 

Daehyun stared. He wasn't sure those words had ever been spoken in that order before on this ship. It was enough to make a guy forget all his suspicions and (completely reasonable) prejudices about Sentinels. Almost. 

"Sure," he said. "Want to learn to make omelettes?"

*

_The hall is lined with the dead. Jongup tries not to look as he walks past, but this only seems to annoy them and they reach out cold hands to nudge him as he goes. He can hear their hissing whispers in his head._

_He just needs to make it to the room at the end of the hall, get his mother, then they can get out of here._

_"Jongup?"_

_He turns sharply. The hallway yawns impossibly far behind him as he sees Himchan's figure on the opposite end. Jongup waves to him, trying to shout,_ go back _,  but he can't get his voice to work._

_Himchan starts toward him, seemingly oblivious to the bodies around him, until one of them gets a grip around his ankle and drags him to the floor with a jerk._

_Jongup can see perfectly as other hands reach for him, tugging at his clothes. There's something obscene about it and somehow he knows Himchan can't let them touch his bare skin._

_Jongup's frozen for a long, painful beat before the spell breaks and he runs back to him. It takes a long time. He kicks away the hands covering Himchan's back, his legs--so many--then kneels, reaching for Himchan's hand, ready to pull him to his feet._

_Himchan looks up at him. His eyes have gone sunken and blank, blood streaming from them down hollowed cheeks. He's dead, Himchan's dead, he's dead, he's_

"Jongup."

He woke with a start. His heart did a nose-dive from where it was resting in his throat.

Yongguk stood over him, one hand hovering just above his shoulder. He smiled when Jongup met his eyes, though he looked concerned. 

"What are you doing in here?"

Jongup sat up, looking around a bit wildly. He was in the cockpit. Shit. _Shit_.

"I. Fell asleep." He rubbed his face hard with both hands, trying to wake up, trying to shake that final image of Himchan from his mind. At the same time, he glanced sideways at the communications panel he'd been working on before he _passed out like a fucking idiot._ The Jackdaw tech he'd stolen was still plugged in, still sending out the transmission he'd started after the others had gone to bed the night before. He'd have to hope Yongguk wouldn't notice, or that if he did, he wouldn't realize what he was looking at. 

"I'd expect to find Dae in here, not you," Yongguk said. 

"Yeah, I--" Jongup's eyes fell on the other Jackdaw tech nearby. Thankfully, that was supposed to be here. "I wanted to make sure the cloaking stuff installed okay."

Yongguk looked at the new panel. 

"Seems like it's working so far," he said. 

They had passed back into populated space the day before. It was _space_ , so they weren't exactly shouldering other crafts out of the way, but there were now several ships' heat sigs passing through their sensors on a regular basis. Jongup had adapted the Jackdaw's cloaking tech to hide the signal from Zelo's Sentinel armor, and to make Cheonsa...well, not disappear, but to _dim_ her slightly, make her less obvious to other ships. 

"Yeah, I think it's fine," he said, standing. His heart was still racing. He needed to get the comm link out of here before Daehyun showed up. No way the pilot would miss the new addition to the 'pit.

Yongguk gave him a funny look. 

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, and hesitated. "These past few days...you seem--"

"Fine," Jongup said, too quickly. "I'm fine." Yongguk didn't look convinced, so Jongup rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing. "Don't tell Youngjae I slept in here, okay? I don't have six hours to listen to a lecture on good sleeping habits."

It worked; Yongguk laughed. 

"You'd have no one to blame but yourself," he said, grinning. He clapped Jongup on the shoulder and turned to go. "C'mon and eat something--Zelo helped Dae cook."

Jongup took the opportunity presented by Yongguk's back to slip the Jackdaw comm link free and stuff it in his pocket. 

They found Himchan alone at the table, coffee pot at his elbow. Jongup let his eyes roam greedily over him, the curve of his shoulders as he hunched over a pad, reading something. He had his glasses on, which always gave Jongup a turn, as well as the oversized pink sweater Daehyun had knit him last Christmas. It had been meant as a joke and Himchan probably only wore it out of spite, but Jongup privately thought it suited him. The combination of it with his usual pants and combat boots made him look both cozy and ready for battle, which in Jongup's opinion summed up the paradox of Kim Himchan perfectly. 

The sight chased away the remnants of his dream, and good riddance. 

"Hey," Yongguk greeted him. 

"Mm," Himchan agreed absently before he really seemed to register their arrival and looked up. "Morning."

He kicked out a chair for Jongup and Jongup sat, still staring with relief. No sunken eyes, no blood. Himchan gave him a funny look.

"What's with you?" 

Jongup just shook his head. "Nothing just--I slept funny."

"Ah." Himchan nodded and poured fresh coffee into his mug before handing it over. "Good for what ails you."

"Breakfast is served!" Daehyun announced, ducking in from the kitchen carrying a platter of fluffy omelettes. Zelo trailed behind him, cutting a slightly comical figure in an apron patterned with stars and rocket ships. It barely reached past his waist, and Jongup was positive Daehyun had given it to him specifically because it would look ridiculous.

"Zelo made these," Daehyun announced. "So eat up. Where's Youngjae?"

Himchan pretended to check his pockets and Daehyun pinched him on his way to the door to shout through the ship for the medic. Himchan winced at the noise.

"How's it going?" Yongguk asked, nodding at the pad. He motioned for Zelo to take the seat beside him and Zelo did. As always, his posture was alarmingly rigid.

Himchan made a disgruntled sound. 

"What are you doing?" Jongup asked, craning his neck to see.

"Going over the Jackdaw logs we took," Himchan said, tilting the pad for Jongup. "Or trying to, anyway. They're encrypted."

The comm link in Jongup's pocket seemed to go hot against his skin. It would break through the encryption in a snap, of course, but he couldn't very well bring it out now without raising questions. He stuffed an enormous bite of omelette into his mouth and hummed sympathetically.

"Well, keep trying," Yongguk said, passing a plate to Youngjae as he came in. 

Jongup let the conversation wash over him. They were all getting less careful around Zelo, he noticed. The boy wasn't quite included--he was too quiet for that, and still too unknown--but he watched them all almost hungrily. Or something softer than that--longingly, maybe, with no little fascination. 

Suddenly, as if sensing the mechanic's attention, Zelo's gaze snapped to Jongup. His eyes were wide and guileless as ever, but Jongup couldn't forget the functional transceiver the Sentinel had elected not to mention. He wasn't sure if he was only imagining the calculation he sensed beneath the surface. For a beat they just stared at each other. Zelo looked away first. 

"These are great, Dae," Himchan said, polishing off the last of his omelette. Daehyun smiled and cocked a thumb at Zelo.

"I can't take credit; he did most of the work."

"No wonder they taste so much better than usual."

Daehyun kicked him under the table and Himchan pulled his feet back, grinning. 

"Whatever," Daehyun sniffed. He turned to Yongguk and nodded at his half-finished plate. "Are you gonna finish that?"

Zelo flinched visibly. "What did you say?" he burst out.

Daehyun looked over, startled. "I wasn't gonna take it if he was still eating," he defended himself. 

"Zelo?" Yongguk said quietly. Zelo's mouth opened and closed a few times, and then he rose jerkily from the table and left the room. 

The others exchanged nonplussed looks. 

"I think you just made some kind of Sentinel faux pas," Himchan told Daehyun, who bared his teeth apologetically. Youngjae looked at Yongguk, and they played a quick wordless game of rock paper scissors. Youngjae lost and promptly left the room, and a slightly awkward silence. 

Daehyun broke it. "Soooo..." he said, raising his eyebrows hopefully. Yongguk pushed his plate over. 

*

Zelo was in the garden, which was good, because Youngjae hadn't had any other ideas where to look for him. 

He was on his knees in front of a tray of potatoes, head down, rocking slightly, muttering to himself. Youngjae moved forward cautiously until he could make out the words.

" _Six percent. Forty-three percent. Sixteen percent. Six--"_ he chanted. Youngjae came around to crouch in front of him. 

"Hey," he said quietly. 

Zelo straightened up abruptly and looked at him, his expression blank. Youngjae wasn't fooled for a minute. 

"What's that you were saying?" he asked. "Six percent, forty...?"

"Forty-three," Zelo corrected softly. "I'm trying to stop forgetting."

"Forgetting what?"

But Zelo just shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together. His expression wasn't blank after all, Youngjae saw now, just controlled. He sensed something like panic under the surface. 

He settled himself cross-legged on the floor and looked around the room. Zelo had only been working in the garden for a few days, but he'd already filled the empty racks with fresh soil and new seedlings. 

"This is my favorite place on the ship," Youngjae commented. "What'd you wind up planting?" Off topic, but he hoped to calm Zelo enough so they could actually get somewhere. 

It seemed to work.

"Cabbage," Zelo said. "Broccoli, spinach."

"Healthy."

"They all need a similar ph in the soil, so it made sense to put them together." Zelo's voice was slightly hoarse but he'd stopped rocking and his stillness seemed less stiff than it had a minute ago. Youngjae nodded. 

"That's smart." He observed him for a silent moment, the way his hands worked compulsively against each other. This was new, and curiously human. Zelo's gaze was fixed firmly on nothing. "Can I ask you something?"

Zelo just nodded.

"How did your Memory Centers work before? How did you... _retrieve_ the memories, I mean?" Youngjae had a hunch he knew where Zelo's anxiety was coming from. 

"The information would be stored and accessed at will. Like...looking information up in a database," Zelo explained carefully.

Youngjae leaned back on his hands, studying him, trying to imagine looking up his own memories like files on a computer--then being locked out of the system unexpectedly. He couldn't blame Zelo for freaking out. 

"It must be tough to get used to, not having that now," he said. "Like having amnesia or something."

"I don't understand how you do it," Zelo burst out, and for the first time Youngjae heard real frustration in his voice. "How you just-- _remember_."

"You just kind of...do," Youngjae said, shrugging helplessly. "It happens automatically. I mean, not _everything_ , and it's not perfect--unless you're Himchan, but he's a freak."

Zelo gave him a questioning look and Youngjae waved a hand. "He's got this obnoxious ability to remember dates and faces and like everything anyone's ever said to him, but then he'll still conveniently "forget" when it's his turn to, like...take a turn in here, for instance."

"He doesn't like gardening?" Zelo said, and Youngjae could see he wasn't simply asking a question, but was also attempting to file away the information. 

"He'd rather wash dishes, the weirdo. But listen, you'll remember that without having to really try. 'Cause it's weird and...un-technical, and who even knows. Just--trust me, most stuff like that's just gonna stick, at least for awhile. You don't have to worry so much."

Zelo looked unconvinced. "What about--things you've already mostly forgotten?" he said hesitantly. "Can you ever get those back?"

"Like what?"

He paused again. Youngjae could practically hear the gears in his head turning. 

Time to throw a wrench in the works.

"We know about your transceiver," he said. Zelo's eyes shot to his, then went wide and innocent. "No more fake cluelessness, okay? I was the maknae in my family, I'm a _master_ of the innocent expression. There's no fooling me."

Zelo stared at him for another beat before his face settled into something warier. Youngjae had the feeling he was looking at the real Zelo for the first time. 

"Jongup?" Zelo guessed. Youngjae nodded. 

"He figured it out that first day. So...all this time, you could've checked in to get your orders or turn us in, and you haven't. Kind of leaves us wondering why not."

Zelo was studying him intently, brow furrowed. Youngjae sighed. 

"You told me you thought what the NRA did to Mato was wrong," he reminded him. Zelo stiffened. 

"I only meant I could see your perspective."  

"You listened to my perspective and you used that to make a _choice_ ," Youngjae said patiently. "Like how you could _choose_ to trust us a little bit now."

"Trust you," Zelo repeated. "I'm not even sure you should trust each other."

Youngjae blinked, startled. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Zelo looked like he regretted saying anything, clearly choosing his words with care. 

"I still have trouble sleeping," he said finally. "Last night I woke up around 0300 and couldn't get back to sleep, so I started running some sensor sweeps to try to...keep my mind busy."

"Sensor sweeps?" Youngjae repeated. "You accessed Cheonsa's command center?" Yongguk wouldn't like that, and Himchan would absolutely _hate_ it. He'd insisted they limit Zelo to nonessential areas of the ship. 

But Zelo shook his head. 

"I have my own sensors," he explained. "They're part of my transceiver; I can access them without activating the whole thing. My signal's fairly weak, mostly good for detecting weapons signatures in a combat situation. I couldn't use it to contact another ship, even if they were close by."

He meant this to be reassuring, Youngjae understood, and it kind of was. 

"I can pick up Cheonsa's signals, though," Zelo continued. "And last night around 0330 I picked up an outgoing transmission."

"Outgoing?" Youngjae repeated blankly. "None of us were sending anything last night."

"Someone was," Zelo insisted. "And they were using a Jackdaw frequency."

Youngjae's stomach dropped. 

"You're lying."

Zelo tilted his head. "Why would I?"

"To--fuck with my head, to try to drive us apart, how the fuck should I know? Is this some new NRA plan to keep fucking with everyone?" Youngjae demanded. He found he was furious and afraid at once, unable to think of a truly good reason for Zelo to fabricate such a story. 

Zelo regarded him somberly. "I'm not trying to...fuck with you," he said. "I was concerned when I detected the Jackdaw signal. I went to investigate."

_This is a trick_ , Youngjae's mind insisted. But he had to ask. 

"What'd you find?" he said.

*

Yongguk and Jongup were still in the mess when Youngjae burst in, Zelo following reluctantly. Jongup was covered in suds and Yongguk's shirt was soaked through. They looked up guiltily at his arrival, their water fight interrupted. Jongup brought out something light in Yongguk that no one else quite could, and Youngjae's heart clenched painfully at the thought of what he had to do now. 

"Jae?" Yongguk said. "What's the ma--"

Youngjae took out his blaster and aimed it at Jongup, who froze. His face turned from surprised to resigned so quickly that Youngjae knew Zelo hadn't been wrong. 

"Hey, shit, what are you _doing_?" Yongguk demanded, moving to put himself between the gun and the mechanic. 

"Bad news, hyung," Youngjae said through gritted teeth. "He's been working with the Jackdaws."

Yongguk gave him a bewildered look and glanced back at Jongup, whose expression had gone blank. 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Youngjae explained tersely what Zelo had told him. 

"He _saw_ you sending out a transmission from the 'pit, Jongup," he said. 

"Bullshit. That's _bullshit;_ you believe a Sentinel over one of us?" Yongguk demanded. 

"Of course not," Youngjae snapped. He looked at Jongup. "You should've wiped the logs after you finished. It's all right there. I saw it myself."

Jongup was silent. Yongguk turned to him again.

"Jongup?"

The mechanic swallowed hard and met the captain's gaze. "I'm sorry."

Youngjae felt a dizzying swoop of nausea. This couldn't be happening. _Jongup_ couldn't be--he couldn't--

His mind kept tossing up images from the past two years. It had been Jongup's idea to transform the cargo bay into a dance club for Youngjae's last birthday, with pounding music and strobing lights. It had been the most purely fun night they'd had in ages, something they'd badly needed after too much work and too little play. 

 Then there were his water fights with Yongguk, his endless patience when Daehyun was in a needling mood, his startlingly loud laugh when Himchan surprised him with a joke. _That_ was Jongup. 

Youngjae didn't know who the fuck _this_ was. 

He couldn't see Yongguk's face, but after a beat, the captain had his blaster out and pressed to Jongup's temple. Jongup pressed his lips together tightly. 

"Hey-- _hey_ , what the fuck--" Suddenly Himchan was there, sliding between the two men, pushing Yongguk's gun aside.

"Get out of the way, Channie."

"Bbang--Youngjae, come on!" Himchan looked between them, baffled and furious, and Youngjae felt another pang. Himchan and Jongup were so close. This would kill him.

" _Move_ , Himchan," Yongguk said. "He's a fucking Jackdaw."

Himchan's hand wavered, but he didn't quite lower it from its spot in front of Yongguk's gun. His expression turned complicated as he looked from the captain to Jongup and back again. Jongup looked stricken now, but Youngjae pushed away his instinctive sympathy, waiting for Himchan to turn his own gun on the mechanic. 

Instead, the commander sighed heavily.

"Yeah," he said. "I know."

*

**Two and a Half Years Ago**

*****

It should not have been this hard to find a decent engineer on a station this size.

Himchan's search ultimately led him to the ore refinery, where the foreman told him to get lost. He turned to go, resigning himself to the disappointed look Yongguk was sure to give him when he returned to Cheonsa alone. At this rate, the cheap price they'd gotten her for was still going to be a waste, because they'd never get her off the ground again, let alone safely into space. 

"You want Moon Jongup."

The voice came from behind him and he almost missed it. He paused, looking back to find a sweaty worker in a messy pair of coveralls watching him. 

"Sorry?"

"You're looking for an engineer, right?" The man said. He had a rather bulging pair of eyes that stood out from a grease-darkened face. "Moon's the best. Worth poaching from this dump if you can."

"Moon Jongup?" Himchan repeated. The man nodded and pointed. "He's working the second stack. Little guy, can't miss him. Just don't let the foreman see you."

"Thanks," Himchan said, digging in his pocket for a credit or two to give the man. But he waved a hand. 

"Nah, forget it," he said. "You get Moon out of here I can take over his shifts."

Himchan found his way to the second stack of ore, keeping an eye out for the unhelpful foreman. It didn't take him long to find who he was looking for, perched high on the stack. Moon was wearing the same coveralls as everyone else, though he'd rolled his to his waist to reveal toned biceps. Himchan wasn't sure if he was more impressed by them or by the fact that he was balanced so precariously without a harness of any kind. 

He even had a tablet in one hand; as Himchan watched, he shifted slightly to type something in. The new angle revealed his face and Himchan froze. 

It couldn't be. 

He took a few steps closer, staring. It couldn't be, except it was. 

Moon Jongup was the Jackdaw who had let him live two years earlier.

Himchan reached instinctively for his blaster before remembering he was surrounded by enough ore to blow a damn hole in the universe if he started shooting. 

Moon must have spotted him out of the corner of his eye, because suddenly he was looking down at him. 

They stared at each other for a beat, then Moon pointed. 

"Foreman's that way."

Himchan thought fast. "I'm looking for an engineer."

"Can't help you there." 

It was definitely him. Himchan didn't have a lot to go on; all he'd said on the Jackdaw ship was _Go_. But Himchan had a very good memory. 

"You're not Moon Jongup? Word around is you're the best." 

Moon sighed and began to climb down. 

"I'm just a mechanic," he said, jumping the last meter to land in front of him. He was so _young_ ; he must have been a damned teenager the last time Himchan saw him.

Himchan made himself smile. He wondered if this _just-a-mechanic_ had saved anyone else from his fellow Jackdaws. He wondered how many of Himchan's friends he'd killed before his moment of mercy or weakness or whatever that had been. 

Somehow, he maintained his composure and talked Moon into coming to Cheonsa. Maybe. Hopefully he'd show up. Then he could fix their ship.

Then Himchan could kill him.

*

**Now**

*****

"Wait, what?" Jongup was staring at Himchan, the rest of the crew forgotten. "I never met you before, I would've remembered you."

Himchan met his gaze evenly. "My commander put an oxygen mask on me as soon as she woke me up. You never saw my face, but I saw yours."

He could see Jongup frantically searching his memories. 

"What ship?" he demanded. 

"The Warrior."

He saw it then, the click in Jongup's eyes as he remembered. 

"That was _you_ ," he said dully. Himchan nodded. Jongup stared, and then a full-body shudder ran through him. He turned away, covering his face with both hands, shoulders tense enough Himchan worried they'd snap. 

"Jongup," he began, but Daehyun cut him off. He'd joined them, attracted by the shouting. Now he was staring at Himchan in bewilderment. 

"Wait, so--you knew he was a Jackdaw and you still brought him to Cheonsa?" He turned to Yongguk. "Have you known this whole time, too?"

"No," Yongguk said shortly, glaring at Himchan. "I haven't."

"I was going to handle it myself," Himchan said, glancing at Jongup, who was still turned away. It hurt to leave him alone in his shock. "At first I figured I...could just kill him after he helped us with Cheonsa. But he'd saved my life, and that didn't sit right with me. And then he was so helpful and not what I'd expected at all, and--Bbang, you remember how it was."

*

**Then**

*****

"I think I figured out why the engine fell off so many times," Jongup said. 

Himchan was lying on his back in the corner. He was covered in sweat and grease and he was _tired_ , but they were making progress finally. He could almost taste open space. 

"Was it my fault?" he asked without looking over. He'd stopped obsessively watching his back around the engineer when it became clear it wasn't necessary. Jongup was pleasantly scatterbrained when it came to anything that wasn't his work; Himchan had needed to remind him he was still in the room every so often. 

"Not so much your _fault_ as...well, yeah. It was your fault."

"Whatever. I'm no engineer, I'm a soldier," Himchan said. "Ask me about my kill count!"

"Maybe later." He could hear the smile in Jongup's voice. "The important thing is, I fixed it so it won't fall off again as soon as you take off."

"God, you're so smug. Maybe we _liked_ it the old way."

Footsteps, then Jongup was looking down at him. "You're cranky," he said. "Snack break?"

Himchan wasn't sure he was going to kill him after all. 

All week he'd been waiting for him to do something Jackdawey, like try to take over the ship or try to kill him and Yongguk, or anyone, really. But all week he'd persisted in being _helpful_ and doing what Himchan asked him to do. 

Plus, it wouldn't be right to kill him after Jongup had saved him. A life for a life was only fair, wasn't it?

He had a hundred excuses, but he was self-aware enough to know that what it really boiled down to was, against all odds and logic, he _liked_ Moon Jongup. 

He was soft-spoken but not a pushover. He clearly knew what he was doing; he was the most natural engineer Himchan had ever met. He had his own way of doing things, but so far they worked. Plus, he was funny.

And he _talked_. Not much, admittedly; he could work in contented silence for hours, but when they took breaks for meals, he was touchingly enthusiastic about Himchan's cooking (unlike _some_ people, cough-Bbang-cough, who seemed to protest the very notion of sustenance) and was quick to laugh at his jokes. 

These past few days, Himchan had found himself having _fun_ for the first time in...years, maybe. And while Yongguk was mostly letting the two of them handle the engine room on their own, even he seemed brighter around Jongup, more the way he'd been back when he and Himchan first met. Maybe it wasn't necessary to tell him about the whole Jackdaw thing. Maybe Jongup was just as entitled to a fresh start as anyone.

Himchan let him pull him to his feet. 

"I don't need a snack break," he said peevishly.

Jongup tilted his chin and squinted. "Coffee?" 

"Lucky guess." 

While they'd been getting Cheonsa back in flying order, Yongguk had been busy elsewhere on the ship. Every time they ventured out of the engine room, there were new changes. It was starting to look like a ship someone might live in--like, on purpose.

He'd finished the kitchen the day before, complete with a coffee maker because he was a wonderful person Himchan would follow unto death.

"Should I leave you two alone?" Jongup asked dryly, eyeing the way Himchan was eyeing the coffee pot. 

"What we have is pure," Himchan informed him, pouring out a cup for each of them. They sat on a pair of mismatched chairs Yongguk had dug up somewhere. "How long d'you think before we can take off?" Himchan asked. 

"You in a hurry?"

He shrugged. "I don't like sitting still. I'd rather just fast-forward to the part where we're out there living our own lives, you know?"

Jongup looked at his coffee. "Yeah," he said simply. 

"What about you?"

His left eyebrow twitched. "What about me what?"

"Did you always want to work at an ore refinery?"

He laughed. "Yeah, I'm living the dream here."

Himchan snorted. Dreams were a luxury he wasn't sure anyone was allowed anymore, though he and Yongguk were working on it. 

He desperately wanted to ask Jongup how he'd come to be on this station. Had he broken with the Jackdaws out of choice or necessity? His skill in the engine room would have made him invaluable to them. Himchan couldn't help hoping he'd left on his own. 

He could have asked. He _almost_ asked every day. It didn't fit in his brain, the memory of that day and all the death, alongside the man he'd spent the week getting to know. Himchan wasn't generally one to question his own memories, but he kept searching for some forgotten detail that could conveniently explain everything. Of course, _Jongup_ could have explained everything. He could also take off at the first mention of the Jackdaws. Himchan wasn't sure he was ready to risk it.

"What do you really want?" he asked him instead. Jongup's smile faded. 

"I used to want to design ships," he said after a beat, his gaze going distant as though it was a challenge to pull up this particular memory. 

"You'd be good at it," Himchan said. "You practically designed our engine room this week."

Jongup smiled very slightly. "She already had good bone structure," he said. Himchan laughed. 

"Tell Yongguk, he'll be so proud."

Yongguk was already prepared to offer Jongup a permanent job based on the work he'd done so far. Himchan had remained noncommittal about the idea, which was probably cowardly of him, knowing what he knew. But he did feel a certain pull--somehow, Jongup _fit_ with them.

"But yeah," the mechanic said, shrugging. "I guess that was the dream. What about you?"

Himchan gave a small start. Unbidden, he pictured fields of green and gold, dusky in early morning light. He thought of the humid musk of the greenhouses, the warm smell of growing things, so different from the metallic chill of a spaceship. 

He pushed it away resolutely. There was no use longing for something that didn't exist anymore.

"Oh, you know. Anything that lets me shoot people," he said airily. Jongup gave him a skeptical look but didn't push it.

*

"This looks amazing," Yongguk said, circling the engine. 

"She's a good ship," Jongup said. "She'll do right by you. You've gotta treat her gently, though."

"You obviously have the touch," Yongguk said. He was trying to catch Himchan's eye, but Himchan avoided his gaze. He knew where this was going, but he didn't think he should be part of this particular decision. 

"I'm okay," Jongup said modestly. 

"What would you say to sticking around?" Yongguk asked. "Make sure Himchan doesn't mess up your hard work?"

"Uncalled for," Himchan muttered, but his whole body tensed as he awaited Jongup's answer. 

_He's a Jackdaw._

_He saved your life._

_He's a_ Jackdaw.

_Not anymore. And just look at that engine--_

Round and around and around his thoughts went. Now Jongup was looking at him, trying to gauge his reaction to Yongguk's offer. Himchan was oddly touched that the mechanic cared what he thought. He met his gaze and arched an eyebrow in challenge. 

Whatever happened would happen. Himchan could always change his mind and kill him later if the decent persona he'd shown all week turned out to be just an act. 

"I mean," Jongup said finally. "That might be safest for everyone."

"I hate you both," Himchan said, but he felt oddly warm and fuzzy inside. 

*

**Now**

*

Himchan was cold. He'd thought he was protecting Jongup all this time, keeping his secret until he was ready to tell it on his own terms. But now here they were, the truth boiling over like so much molten whatever.

"So, what--all this time you were waiting for a chance to sell us out to your people?" Yongguk asked Jongup. Well, spat, practically. Himchan winced. It had been a long time since he'd seen him truly angry, and never at Jongup. 

Jongup's back was still turned to them but now he swiveled to return Yongguk's glare with surprising ferocity. 

"My people?" His voice was eerily calm. 

"I think he means the Jackdaws," Daehyun put in helpfully. "Cause of how, you know, that's who we're talking about." His tone aimed for spite but couldn't quite reach. Instead, he just sounded hurt. 

" _They_ aren't my people," Jongup said, and he managed the perfect hateful bite that Daehyun had missed. "Fuck the Jackdaws." He looked at Himchan as he said it and Himchan saw he meant it. 

"Well, so..." Youngjae said, and wrinkled his nose. "I guess I'm confused."

Jongup sighed. His shoulders were still high and tense, his expression controlled in a way Himchan hadn't seen it in a long time. 

"I'm from Yonsei station," he said. 

Youngjae and Yongguk exchanged a baffled look. 

"Yonsei was one of the university stations," Youngjae said blankly. "No one's _from_ there, it was all just students."

"And teachers." Jongup's gaze returned to Himchan. "My mother ran the engineering department. She didn't stop just because she got pregnant. I was born there."

Himchan's mind reeled. He'd imagined so many backgrounds for Jongup, but this hadn't been one of them.

"I always said you were a natural engineer," he said. 

"Mechanic," Jongup said automatically. 

"So--" Yongguk was still frowning, but more thoughtfully now. "How did you--"

"The Jackdaw attack on the university stations," Zelo spoke up for the first time. He'd been so still and silent Himchan had forgotten he was there. "Yonsei was destroyed." The look he gave Jongup lacked the suspicion of Yongguk's, the hurt of Daehyun's. "You survived."

Jongup nodded. "They took us," he said. "My mother and me. When they figured out who she was, they figured she could help them."

"Help them," Himchan repeated, his heart sinking. 

"She didn't want to," Jongup said quickly. "She kept refusing, but..."

"But they had you," Himchan said. "That scar on your chest--" 

Daehyun gave him a funny look, but Jongup just nodded. Himchan felt sick. How many times had he traced that scar and wondered at its origins but never asked? He hadn't wanted to press Jongup into a lie, or into a truth he wasn't ready to tell. 

"How old were you?" he asked, because apparently he really just wanted to have his heart ripped out and destroyed. Jongup rolled his jaw. 

"Thirteen," he said. 

Daehyun looked between them. "So they..."

"Tortured him to get his mother to cooperate," Himchan said, never taking his eyes off Jongup. "What'd they make her do?"

Jongup was stone-faced. "She designed their cloaking tech," he said finally.

There was an abrupt uproar--well, from Youngjae and Daehyun, anyway. Zelo blinked quickly in that way he did when he was absorbing new information. Yongguk's expression darkened. Himchan knew he must be calculating how many of their friends they'd lost to Jackdaws during the war, thanks in large part to their damn cloaking tech. Himchan was trying not to do the same thing.

He looked back at Jongup, whose expression had hardened into resignation. 

_Complicit_ , Himchan's mind threw at him. 

Then, reminding himself: _Jongup_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this one--life, you know. I hope you like it!

*****

**Eight Years Ago**

*****

As always, he woke to pain.

"Up and at 'em, runt." Jin must be in a good mood; his kick only knocked half of Jongup's breath from him. 

He rolled out of reach of the second, rising from his low cot in the corner, eyes automatically seeking out his mother's bed. Empty already--or empty _still_. He'd tried to wait up for her the night before, but exhaustion had taken him before she'd returned, if she ever had. 

Jin followed his gaze.

"She's earning her keep," he said, giving Jongup's shoulder a sharp push. "Don't ask questions."

Jongup didn't bother pointing out that he hadn't. Questions were a waste of energy, something he had in short enough supply already.

He pulled on a sweater on his way out the door, grimacing at the feel of rough material stretched too tightly across his shoulders. He'd put a lot of muscle on his scrawny frame in the six months the Boss had assigned him to the hard labor of salvage. It was his first growth spurt in years--and, he suspected glumly, probably his last. None of his shirts fit right anymore, but the ship's narrow corridors were too cold to go without layers. 

He followed Jin to the mess, a low-ceilinged grey room forever scented with the ghosts of inedible meals past. As always, the breakfast on offer looked questionable at best, and as always, Jongup was too hungry to care.

He kept his head down as he ate, though his eyes rarely drifted from the door, in case his mother should appear. She didn't. 

Jin held court beside him, jeering and joking with everyone who entered his orbit. The other Jackdaws barely glanced at Jongup, his presence so much a fixture after three years. He ignored them right back, letting his expression go slack as his mind drifted.

He did this so much he knew half the crew was convinced he was simple, which was fine by him. Far better to avoid notice around here. Failure to fly under the radar had left him with a deep scar down his chest, the black eye currently fading to yellow, two broken fingers clumsily taped together.

He ate fast and pushed back his seat. Jin looked over.

"Where d'you think you're going?"

"Can I bring her something to eat?" Jongup kept his voice soft, unthreatening. Jin gave a grudging nod.

"Make it fast. You're on breakdown today; we've still got a ton of shit from from that NRA convoy to go through."

Jongup just nodded and returned to the kitchen. He'd never say so out loud, but working salvage was his favorite. The crew was always in their best mood just after they'd taken a ship; he could hope to be mostly left alone for the next few days while he figured out what might be of use.

He filled his bowl a second time and ducked out of the mess, making a beeline for his mother's lab. As he'd hoped, no one paid him any mind.

He slowed as he reached his destination and saw the wide back of Boss Woo Hansol darkening the doorway. 

Jongup hadn't yet mastered the art of flying under the Boss's radar. He noticed everything, most definitely including his youngest captive. Jongup ducked behind a bulkhead as he heard his mother's voice.

"I can have a prototype ready by the end of the week."

"Good. We're getting close to Mato; we'll have plenty of opportunities to test it. It had better work."

Jongup's stomach dropped. He didn't know what his mother had been working on; she'd merely told him tersely that he wasn't to be involved. But he knew it couldn't be anything good for the Boss to sound so pleased.

"You remember our bargain?" his mother said. 

"You keep reminding me," Woo said, the warning in his voice mingling with amusement. Jongup had always sensed he enjoyed his mother for her fight, for her willingness to stand up to him.

"This tech will help you," she said. Eunae's voice had once commanded classrooms of hundreds of students, and it had lost none of its strength during her years of captivity. "It will give your people an advantage. All I ask is, if it works, you let my son go."

Jongup went so still he was fairly sure his heart stopped beating. 

He'd been used against his mother since the beginning, the perfect bargaining chip to get Eunae to do the Jackdaw's terrible bidding. But he'd never imagined she might leverage her skills to get him freed. He felt a powerful surge of longing at the thought and hated himself for it. His mother was kidding herself if she honestly thought he'd ever leave her behind.  

"One thing at a time," Woo said. "Make me my cloak and we'll talk about the boy."

He left the lab, thankfully taking the path away from Jongup, as there was no way he'd have missed him otherwise. 

Jongup stayed in place, thinking fast. 

_We can only trust each other_ , his mother was fond of saying. But apparently this was crap, because she hadn't said a word to him about any cloaking tech, nor any deal to have him released.

He rose from his hiding spot and went to the lab. 

Eunae was crouched over a panel, muttering to herself. 

Her old colleagues would never recognize her now (even if they hadn't been so dead, which admittedly put them at a disadvantage). Gone was her pristine lab coat, her heels, the neat chignon she pulled her hair into each morning. 

Maybe it was strange, but Jongup liked her better this way: hair cut short by her own inexpert hand, clothes grease-stiffened and sweat-stained, eyes narrowed and focused, eyebrows sharply furrowed. Captivity had had made her as hard and bright as a diamond. 

She spotted him in the doorway and straightened. 

"Cloak?" Jongup said simply. Her eyes shuttered and she returned to her work. 

"I didn't raise you to eavesdrop, Jongup-ah."

"The Boss won't give you what you want. You _know_ he won't." Jongup practically tossed the bowl down in front of her, glaring. With infuriating calm, Eunae removed it from her workspace and set it aside.

"You know he considers himself a man of his word," she said. "This could be my best chance to get you out of here."

"And what about you?" Jongup snapped. "If I'm not here--"

"They won't have the leverage to make me help them," his mother interrupted hotly. "You think I want to make this?" She kicked the panel, scattering tools with a metallic clang. "At least a cloak is defensive tech. Next time they could ask me for a weapon, and if you're still here, I'll have to make it."

_And if I'm not_ , Jongup realized, going ice-cold all at once, _you can refuse until they kill you_.

His mother was too damn smart not to have thought this through. She'd do anything for his safety. He didn't believe the same went for her own.

He couldn't bring himself to say it aloud. He wasn't deluded enough to think he could do much to protect her; he'd screamed and fought and taken beatings for her, and they were still here.

But...they _were_ still here. As long as they were alive, as long as they were together, they had a chance. He had to believe it or he'd curl up and die.

He blinked back to attention as his mother ran a hand through his hair. 

"Nothing's certain yet," she said. "They want you in the second hangar today. When was your last dose of anti-radiation meds?"

"Two days ago." 

She frowned. "I want you to see Doc Lee for more after your shift. That convoy had a reactor leak."

Jongup wanted to argue, but he knew when he'd been dismissed. His mother turned away from him, focusing on her work. There was no use fighting with her once she'd made up her mind. 

Jongup left the lab on legs that felt numb and distant, then stopped in the hall, trying to breathe, trying to think.

He could go to the Boss, remind him that without Jongup, their leverage against Eunae would be gone. But Woo wasn't stupid. He'd have thought of that much himself. Maybe he already had plans for Eunae. And why would he listen to Jongup, anyway? Jackdaws only listened to each other.

Jongup went still. Now _there_ was an idea.

A nauseating idea, a make-his-mother-want-to-kill-him idea, an unlikely-to-succeed idea...but still.

He made his way to the second hangar bay and found Jin barking orders. 

"The fuck have _you_ been," he snapped at Jongup, tossing him a face mask already gone dark grey, two-thirds of the way to useless. 

Jongup ignored his tone, catching the mask reflexively.

"We'll be in Mato space in a few days," he said.

"And?"

"And if I get all this shit broken down before then--" Jongup motioned around the bay, crowded with wreckage. "then I want to come with you on the next raid." He had to swallow hard, the words bitter in his mouth. "I want to be a Jackdaw."

*****

**Now**

*****

There was a long silence. 

"So...you volunteered," Yongguk said finally, his voice flat. 

"Yes," Jongup said simply.  "I couldn't leave her there alone. So I did what I had to so they'd let me stay."

"Not a great deal, Jongup-ah" Himchan spoke up. "So you had to do what they wanted and they could still use you against her."

As always, he cut straight to the heart of the matter. Jongup risked a glance at him. The older man was staring at the table, arms crossed tightly over his chest, face a perfect blank. Jongup wished they could have just five minutes alone so he could explain--not that he knew what he'd possibly say.

"No," he agreed. "It wasn't a great deal. She never forgave me for it."

He'd miscalculated his mother's anger. It didn't help that the Boss was so fucking _smug_ about it all, gathering the crew together to announce their newest trainee, right in front of Eunae. Jongup's memory had nothing on Himchan's, but he'd never forget the way his mother's face had paled with shock as the Boss threw his arm across his shoulders in a purposely fatherly gesture. Woo Hansol knew more than one way to twist the knife.

Jongup had tried to explain, but his mother wouldn't hear of it. Worse, the fight went out of her. It was only later that Jongup realized she had never planned for the cloaking tech to work long-term. But with him still under the Boss's thumb, she had no choice but to give the pirates a true advantage. Every time they used it to take another ship unawares, Eunae's fire dimmed.

Jongup had done that. In his long list of sins, he thought this might be the worst.

"So, what?" Daehyun said. "They just...trusted you? After all that?"

"Not right away. The Boss must've known exactly why I volunteered, but he knew I wouldn't do anything that could come back on my mother. Plus I was...useful."

Good mechanics were always in heavy demand after a job, and Jongup had learned from the very best. It had taken longer for them to trust him in combat, but ultimately Jin took him under his wing, training him with a set of knives before finally giving him his first blaster. By then, Jongup was considered part of the crew. By then it had been two years since his mother looked him in the eye.

"Did you kill for them?" Yongguk asked bluntly. Jongup winced. Blank-eyed faces flashed in his memory.

"...Sometimes."

They were all silent for a long beat. He couldn't look at any of them--not Yongguk, who he respected more than anyone he'd ever met. Not Daehyun or Youngjae, his brothers. 

Not Himchan. 

Abruptly, Yongguk pushed back from the table. 

"I need some air," he said, and left the room. After a long uncomfortable pause, Daehyun followed. Jongup could guess where they were going: the huge window in the 'pit. Yongguk went there when he needed to think. Daehyun went when he needed to breathe.

Youngjae cleared his throat, then didn't say anything.

"Might as well take a break too, Jae," Himchan said. The medic looked between him and Jongup.

"You sure?" he asked. That one stung Jongup more than he'd like to admit. Did Youngjae seriously imagine Himchan would no longer be safe alone with him?

"Yes," Himchan said simply. His tone brooked no refusal. Youngjae sighed, gave Jongup a sidelong glance, and went, pulling Zelo along gently.

Himchan and Jongup sat, letting the silence stretch between them, taut as a rubber band. It was what Jongup had wanted, but now that they were alone, he couldn't think of a thing to say. He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Himchan had _known_ , all this time. Had known, and rather than shooting him on sight, he'd fed him and given him a job and a home. Had somehow trusted him in Cheonsa's engine room and his own bed. 

Himchan stood up suddenly and Jongup flinched. "I know it's early," Himchan said. "But what do you say to a drink?"

He pulled two mugs out and unearthed a bottle of whiskey Jongup was pretty sure was Yongguk's. 

"Sure," he said hoarsely.

Himchan passed him a cup and sat back down heavily. His expression was still a blank it hurt Jongup to look at.

"I wanted to tell you," he said softly. "I thought you'd kill me if you knew."

Himchan didn't look at him. "And I thought if I gave you enough time you'd realize you could trust me enough not to. I guess we were both wrong." 

Jongup winced, hearing the hurt in his voice, knowing he was about to make it worse. He was starting to think honesty was overrated. But now that he'd started, he wanted it done.

"I almost shot you," he said. "On the Warrior. I was close--when I saw you two awake, I thought it'd be...nicer...to kill you before the others got back and did it."

By the time they'd raided Warrior, Jongup had had plenty of opportunities to watch the Jackdaws work. They didn't torture as a rule, exactly, but nor did they worry overmuch about the suffering of their victims. Jongup had performed more than one mercy killing when he had the chance. 

Himchan paused, then took a long swallow of liquor.

"That's almost sweet," he said. 

"It's not funny," Jongup burst out. He felt sick, he felt _infected_ with knowing how close he'd come to taking Himchan out of the world without even realizing it. If he hadn't spotted the storage locker nearby--the perfect hiding place--he'd have done it. He didn't know who he'd have been without Kim Himchan, but he was sure that was a reality he never wanted to visit.

"No," Himchan agreed. "But it wouldn't have been personal. And if it helps, I almost killed you, too." He downed the rest of his drink. "A couple times, in the beginning." He sat with his elbows on his knees, glaring broodingly into his empty cup. 

Oh, Jongup's guilt could fill _galaxies_.

"Why didn't you?" he asked. The question made Himchan look at him, and something in his eyes brought to Jongup's mind their nights together. But that didn't make sense, because now Himchan looked angry. 

"You know," he said shortly. 

Jongup shook his head. If he meant their...thing...that hadn't even _started_ until six months in, and Jongup had been the one to initiate it in the first place. Or he thought he had; that had been a drunk night.

Speaking of which, he remembered his whiskey. He drank it in one long swallow. 

When he finished, gasping slightly, Himchan was still watching him. The alcohol buzzing through Jongup made it easier to meet his eyes. As always, they were dark and deep and all too easy to get lost in.

Hell. He'd been lost for years.

*****

**Two Years and Two Months Ago**

*****

"That's a fine leg you've got there, Himchan. It'd be a shame to lose it," Youngjae said. 

Himchan blinked. His mind was slow with painkillers, but he was pretty sure he'd heard right. 

"Are you threatening me with amputation right now?" he asked. The medic's eyes widened.

"What? No!"

"That's definitely what it sounded like," Daehyun said from his perch on the second exam table. "What kind of doctor _are_ you?" He shook his head at Himchan in mock dismay. Or maybe real dismay; Himchan was a little out of it. 

"Bbang?" he pleaded. Yongguk was there. He sighed, patting Himchan's shoulder comfortingly. 

"I don't think that's what he meant."

"It's _not_ , you didn't let me finish!" Youngjae said. "I _meant_ \--it would be a shame if you were stuck with a lesser medic who couldn't save you leg like I just did. I _meant_ , congratulations, you're going to be fine."

"Next time, lead with that," Daehyun advised. 

"See?" Yongguk nudged Himchan, who elbowed him aside with a growl. 

Youngjae had been with them less than two months. Daehyun had vouched for him, old war buddy or whatever, but Himchan was reserving judgement. The medic was hard to get a read on, hyperactive and noisy one minute, quietly focused the next.

Still, Himchan looked at his two legs with the fresh appreciation of a man who had feared he was about to lose one, and thought Yoo Youngjae might just be his new favorite person.

His left leg was wrapped in a fresh dressing and looked sterile and lovely, although the impressive pile of blood-soaked bandages Youngjae had gone through to get it to this point was still visible on the table nearby. 

"This is why I hate working ore refineries," Himchan said. "Their safety codes suck."

"Well, you can sit the rest of this job out," Yongguk told him. 

"Great. Now I can die of boredom."

"You're such a complainer," Daehyun said. He hopped off the bed and ruffled Himchan's hair gently.  "Don't worry, hyung, we'll all keep you company when we can."

"Not all of you," Himchan muttered. Their supportive crew was noticeably lacking a member. 

Daehyun glanced at the door. 

"I think the blood freaked him out, that's all."

Himchan crossed his arms grumpily. "Yeah, well it freaked me out too."

Yongguk snorted. "Get some rest," he said. "We'll be back."

Himchan was left alone with his leg and his other leg and his thoughts and the residual pain. He drifted in and out of sleep for hours, his dreams both vivid and fleeting, thanks to the painkillers.

He wasn't sure how long it was before he woke with the feeling that he'd had quite enough of this recuperation business. Youngjae had left a set of crutches beside his bed and he hooked them to him now, swinging his leg carefully but determinedly off the bed and pushing himself to his feet. He swayed on the spot as blood rushed into his injured leg, making it pulse painfully. Spots swam in his vision.

"I'm fine. I'm _fine,"_ he muttered, the painkillers making his words slur slightly. Maybe possibly probably he should lie back down, but dammit it was _boring_ in here by himself and anyway he was fine, totally fine. He wasn't being stubborn, _you_ were being stubborn.

He made his way to the door. They'd left it cracked, thankfully, or he'd never have gotten the hatch open on his own. He shouldered his way through the gap and into the hallway, and stopped short. 

Jongup sat on the floor just outside the medbay, back to the wall, fast asleep. He'd pulled his knees up to his chest and he was listing slightly to the side. He was frowning in his sleep, his sharp brows furrowed, lips in a slight pout. 

Himchan stared down at him and his heart did something complicated in his chest. He did some quick calculating and figured out how to lower himself to the floor, injured leg stretched out in front of him. He scooted sideways so his shoulder was under Jongup's lolling head. The mechanic made a small fussing sound, then settled more firmly against Himchan's side without waking. 

This should not have been less boring than the medbay, but somehow, it was. 

Himchan wasn't sure how long they sat that way, but in time, Jongup shifted beside him, and then suddenly the pressure of his head was gone. He turned to find him blinking rapidly, looking around. 

"Oh," Jongup said. 

"Well, good morning," Himchan said. He could've sworn Jongup _blushed_ , which was hilarious but also distractingly attractive. Himchan had found himself noticing this kind of thing about Jongup in the four months they'd known each other. It was disquieting to say the least. He hadn't yet decided what, if anything, to do about it. 

"How long have you been sitting here?" Jongup said. 

"A watch doesn't really go with this outfit. How long have _you_ been sitting here?"

"Since they brought you in." Jongup stared at his bandaged leg. "For a minute it seemed like you were gonna..."

"Good thing our new medic knows what he's doing."

Jongup nodded without looking up. "Good thing," he repeated softly. 

If it had been Daehyun or Yongguk, Himchan would have teased him, but Jongup's relief was too palpable, tension still set in his shoulders. Himchan nudged him gently. 

"I didn't know you were so queasy around blood."

"I'm queasy around yours." Jongup muttered this so quietly Himchan almost thought he'd misheard. But when he looked over sharply Jongup was _definitely_ blushing as he glared determinedly down at his hands. Himchan felt his own cheeks warm in response and he averted his gaze before Jongup could catch him staring. 

"I've had worse, you know," Himchan confided after a beat. "Did I tell you about that time I got shot in the back? Missed my heart by two centimeters. Or when I got caught in that fire and almost asphyxiated? Or--"

"I don't need to hear about every time you almost got yourself killed," Jongup interrupted. He sounded mildly put-out, which coming from him was an overwhelming display of emotion. Himchan was tempted to laugh. 

He was also tempted to take Jongup's hand, resting so close to his own. They were practically touching already, what would it hurt? His pinkie twitched and then _Jongup's_ pinky twitched as if in response and Himchan jerked his hand away as if he'd been burned. 

This was maybe slightly obvious, so he covered the moment with a laugh and looked at Jongup, who was already looking at him. 

"We have. The _best_ drugs," Himchan informed him. "My head? Is fucking _great_ right now." He felt oddly buoyant, the painful pulsing in his leg faded now that he'd been sitting still for a minute. And Jongup had been worried about him. For some reason, that was just...nice.

Jongup's mouth tightened in that way it did when he was trying not to laugh. Oops Himchan was looking at his lips again oops. 

(Again?)

He made himself stop, but Jongup was pushing himself to his feet anyway, though he didn't rise, just crouched next to him. 

"Let's get you back to bed before someone sees you out here and blames me," he said. He took Himchan's hand and maneuvered Himchan's arm so it was draped across his broad shoulders. "You ready?"

Their faces were very close and Himchan suddenly found it difficult to form words. He just nodded, got his good leg under him, and he and Jongup rose awkwardly together. Himchan swayed as his blood rearranged itself.

"Whoops," he muttered, distantly aware he was about to fall. Then he felt Jongup's arm wrap securely around his waist, steadying him. 

"It's okay, Channie, I've got you," Jongup said. "I'm not going anywhere."

*****

**Now**

*****

Youngjae was pacing. Every so often he'd stop and peer into one of the trays of seedlings, prod one with the tip of his finger, but Zelo got the feeling he wasn't really seeing anything.

He let this continue for a few minutes before asking, "Are you all right?"

Youngjae laughed in a way that didn't sound like a laugh. 

"I'm great," he said in a way that didn't sound like he was great. He paced a little more, then stopped, sighing, and turned back to Zelo. "Sorry. I'm not really. Jongup...it's a lot to take in." 

He'd come to a stop in front of the flower wall and he touched a blossom moodily. Zelo joined him, studying the blooms with twelve percent of his attention and giving the rest to Youngjae, who he could see was thinking things through. 

Secrets were such a human thing. Zelo had never had as many as he had this past week. He'd thought of them as something to protect, something to protect _him_. He hadn't truly recognized their ability to hurt others. He thought he understood for the first time how the crew might have felt to learn of his transceiver, to know he'd kept it from them. 

"Does this change how you feel about him?" he asked.

"Yes!" Youngjae snapped. He frowned and pursed his lips. "I mean, of course not. But kind of, obviously."

"Ah." Zelo nodded understandingly, though understanding was well out of his reach. Youngjae sighed again.

"The jackdaws are the worst. I worked some rescue missions after their attacks. What they did to people...I wouldn't wish it on the worst NRA commander, you know? They just didn't care." His face contorted slightly and he looked at his hands. "So many people died in the war--soldiers and refugees and--and that's to be expected, I guess. It's awful and pointless, but you can kind of...make sense of it somehow. But the Jackdaws killed people who didn't have to die. Civilians, doctors, fucking teachers and students, just--and Jongup helped them? He helped _them_?"

Zelo considered this. He felt that there must be some sort of formula to determine whether Jongup's good deeds outweighed the bad, but there were too many unknowns to calculate.

"How important is it that he didn't want to?" he asked. Youngjae blinked. 

"I--don't know. I mean it matters, but...he killed people for them. He can regret it all he wants; doesn't bring any of them back."

"He saved your commander," Zelo said. "I believe Himchan would have been killed without Jongup's intervention."

Youngjae frowned. "That's true...he's saved all of us at some point or another, honestly. Cheonsa would be in pieces by now without him."

"And does that matter?" Zelo pressed. It felt vital he understand for some reason. How many bad acts, even under duress, made a person...unsalvageable?

"Of course it matters." Youngjae cocked his head, studying him. "Everything matters. But it's complicated."

This much, Zelo had surmised.

"Listen, I'm sorry," Youngjae said, and now he looked uncomfortable. "For--assuming you were lying before, about Jongup."

"You didn't want to believe it," Zelo said. This, at least, seemed simple enough. 

"No," Youngjae agreed. "But still."

"It's okay," Zelo said after a pause in which he couldn't think of a better response. Youngjae was still looking at him with an expression Zelo couldn't place. 

"Why were you so worried before? About your memories, I mean."

Zelo blinked. "This--doesn't seem like the time to--"

"Tell me."

_Are you gonna finish that?_

Zelo studied Youngjae, tried to calculate the possible outcomes of confiding in him. But he was too unpredictable, and there was too much Zelo still didn't know, or that had been erased from him. 

"I think," he said finally. "I remember something I'm not supposed to."

*

"You were sending a transmission," Himchan prompted.

They were both on their second drink. Jongup wasn't sure if that was why he felt so much more at-ease, or if it was the simple fact of being alone with Himchan. It felt less like an interrogation without another four sets of accusing eyes pinning him to his seat.

Himchan was beside him but facing him, one foot resting on the edge of Jongup's chair in an oddly reassuring position. 

Jongup nodded and groped in his pocket for the comm dish, which he passed over to Himchan. He examined it with a frown.

"I _thought_ you took something from that freighter," he murmured. 

Jongup let out a huff. "Why didn't you say something?"

Himchan's eyes flickered up to his briefly. "Would you have told me the truth?"

Jongup was silent. Himchan gave him a pointed look. 

"Will you tell me now?"

"I'm trying to find my old ship," Jongup said.

"Find it? How'd you lose it?"

Jongup took a sip of whiskey. It was going down smoothly now, which meant it was probably time to stop. 

Fuck it. He poured himself another finger's worth and refilled Himchan's glass without bothering to ask. 

"By the time the war ended, the Jackdaws trusted me. The Boss trusted me. I'd done enough shit for them, why the hell not." His voice sounded harshly bitter to his own ears, the sound of feelings he'd suppressed for years. Himchan's gaze sharpened. "When we saw the NRA transmission of the massacre...saw the Sentinels for the first time...I was on the crew that was sent to bring one of them back."

_Time to get us a murder-bot of our own,_ Jin had announced to their small team, to general laughter. Even after so long with them, Jongup hadn't been able understand their amusement. The body count of the attack was staggering.

"Jackdaws with a Sentinel," Himchan said now, shaking his head, disgust clear on his face. "What a thought."

His expression reminded Jongup too much of Eunae's. He stared into his cup instead. 

"Yeah, well, lucky for everyone, the war was over by the time we got to the 'front. They'd already called the ceasefire. Even with the cloaking tech, it was too risky to go in, we would've been picked up immediately."

They'd found refuge planetside, managed to wait it out on a small moon overcrowded with refugees. Jongup had nearly given Jin the slip a half-dozen times, but he wasn't walking out on his mother now.

"By the time we went back to the rendezvous point, our ship was gone," he said. "We were three days late, and the Boss was never one for waiting. Maybe they took off, maybe they got picked up by an NRA convoy or blown up by some pissed off Matoki."

"You never found any trace?"

Jongup hesitated. 

"Rumors, here and there," he said finally. "Enough to make me think they're still out there somewhere. I managed to get away from my crew, catch a lift to a station...Best I could do was find a job and hope if I saved enough money I might be able to buy information down the line somewhere. Then you found me."

"Then I found you." Himchan's eyes were narrowed thoughtfully, boring holes into Jongup's skin. "And what about since then?" he said abruptly. "Any leads?"

Jongup shook his head. "It's probably stupid to think she's still alive." 

He hadn't let himself think this in almost three years. There was no one else in the universe who cared whether Moon Eunae existed. Jongup couldn't give up on her.

"It's not stupid," Himchan said. "Do you have any idea--" He broke off and shook his head almost angrily.

"What?"

He glared at Jongup. "Do you think there's anything any of us wouldn't do if we still had family out there? If there was a _chance_ \--" He stopped again and looked away, and Jongup remembered that he'd had a sister. Parents, grandparents, friends. They all had. _Lucky_ wasn't a word Jongup would have thought of to describe himself, but even this sliver of hope was more than the rest of the crew had of ever seeing their families again. 

"I'm sorry," he said. Himchan just shook his head, taking a long time before meeting his eyes. 

"Don't be sorry for that," he said quietly. "I don't...know what to say about the rest? The Jackdaws, it's--I don't know." He finished his drink and pushed his cup away with a look of clear reluctance. Jongup followed suit.

"What do you think Yongguk's going to do?" he asked. He imagined the captain debating whether to shoot him after all. He couldn't decide if that would be better or worse than simply being thrown off the ship.

"I don't know," Himchan admitted. "But if it helps, he's probably more mad at me than you right now."

"No he's not. And why would that help?"

"Okay, using the term _help_ kind of loosely."

Jongup almost laughed despite himself. "Fuck," he said wearily. 

"Fuck," Himchan agreed. He tapped Jongup's thigh with the side of his foot. Then, gently: "It'll be okay. Somehow." He waited for Jongup to meet his eyes and smiled--it was a troubled smile, but a real one. "I'm not going anywhere." 


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm going to kill him."

"You're not."

"I _might_."

"You won't."

Yongguk turned from the window to glare at Daehyun, who'd taken a seat at the helm. He was swiveling back and forth in his seat lazily, as if this day hadn't taken a turn for the profoundly fucked up.

"How can you not care?" Yongguk demanded. Daehyun stuck out his foot before his chair could spin him around too far.

"I _do_ ," he protested. "I'm..." He waved a hand in a circular motion beside his head. "...processing. I don't think you should kill Jongup, though. At least not before we can find a new engineer."

Yongguk grimaced at the pilot's mistake. "I meant Himchan."

Daehyun noticed his own hand still hovering beside his face and lowered it. "Oh...Wait, that doesn't seem fair?"

Yongguk was clenching his jaw painfully. He made himself stop. "He lied to me," he said shortly. 

"Sure," Daehyun said. "Um--not to stand up for Himchan hyung, which I obviously never would--but Jongup lied to you too?"

Yongguk shook his head convulsively. He couldn't think about Jongup yet. Every time his thoughts flitted close, he went white-hot with rage and betrayal. Technically, _obviously_ , Daehyun was right. But Himchan's was at least a betrayal Yongguk could focus on. 

"Himchan put us all in danger keeping it secret."

Daehyun looked unconvinced. "Jongup never wanted to hurt us."

"He could have brought the Jackdaws down on us."

"Yeah, but he...y'know. Didn't."

Yongguk scowled. Absurdly, in the moment, what he wanted more than anything was...well, Himchan. Himchan, he was sure, wouldn't be quite as determined to be fair and sensible as Daehyun. Himchan was generally happy to indulge Yongguk's pettier moods, feeding the flames of his anger until they burned themselves out, leaving Yongguk clear of the fire. Himchan never even gave him shit for it after.

"Forget it." Yongguk was avoiding the real problem, which was the fucking Jackdaw that had been living among them all this time. 

Daehyun ignored his tone. "What are we gonna do with him?" he asked quietly. "To be clear, I'm talking about Jongup now."

Yongguk sighed and sat in the nest at the corner of the window. 

"I haven't ruled out killing him," he said. "Who knows how many innocent people he killed, and that's before we even get into the damn cloaking tech. Even he admits it wouldn't exist if it hadn't been for him."

Why couldn't he have just left the Jackdaws when his mother gave him an out? Yongguk would have no problem with Jongup the Ex-Captive. 

Jongup the Walking Gray Area was another matter entirely.

"I get that." Daehyun shifted uncomfortably. "But...kinda seems like he was just a kid, you know? He wanted to protect his mom in the only way he had. Killing him for it wouldn't seem right."

Yongguk couldn't argue with that. Nothing about this was right. 

"Besides," Daehyun went on. "Himchan wouldn't let you."

"Himchan is not the captain," Yongguk said. The anger flared in his chest again. "I can't believe him," he muttered. "How could he not tell me?"

He had meant the question rhetorically, but the pilot gave a small cough.

"I mean," he said, in a way that sounded more like _you know._ He gave Yongguk a significant look. Yongguk grimaced. He knew.

He made it a point not to get wrapped up in the parts of his friends' lives that didn't directly involve him. He let Daehyun keep his prison memories to himself--for now--and he didn't interfere in what Himchan and Jongup apparently thought was a secret relationship. He wasn't entirely sure how long it had been going on; the knowledge of it was like a dimmer switch his brain had gradually turned. 

He'd been a little envious in the beginning, watching how the two of them just _fit_ , making the perfect team to build Cheonsa into something spaceworthy. Himchan was different with Jongup, softer than with the others, while for his part Jongup seemed drawn to the other man, his eyes finding him first in any room. Yongguk had seen Jongup slipping out of Himchan's room late one night and the thought _of course_ had floated through Yongguk's mind before any surprise.

Now he had to make room for the idea that all that time, Himchan had known Jongup was a Jackdaw. 

God, love made people stupid.

They'd never talked about it but he wasn't surprised Daehyun had figured it out. He was more perceptive than he let on. He was giving Yongguk a knowing look now.

"You don't want to kill him," he said. "You never want to kill anyone. Besides...he's still Jongup."

Jongup. After that early jealousy had faded, Yongguk had been happy to have the younger man on board. He was _light_ somehow. Yongguk and Himchan had grown too prone to brooding, to bouts of drinking and the exchange of war stories so depressing even Himchan couldn't speak for days after. If they hadn't found Jongup, Yongguk wasn't sure the two of them would have stayed together long enough to meet Daehyun. Their makeshift family might never have existed. 

But Jongup had been lying to them all along. They'd never really known him at all.

"You sure about that?" Yongguk said.

*

"You are getting very...sleepy..."

Zelo blinked and moved politely away from Youngjae's finger, which was too close to his face. "Er, what?"

The medic lowered his hand. "Hypnotism. To try to bring back repressed memories!"

Zelo gave him a doubtful look. "Will that work?"

"How could it fail?" Youngjae demanded, then frowned. "Don't answer that. But Zelo, this is big--if you still have memories from your time as a Sentinel-- _real_ memories, not like files on a database--maybe we can retrieve them. Maybe you have memories from before that."

"There was no Before," Zelo said automatically, even as something went light and...something...in his chest. He frowned, trying to name the feeling.

"Of course there was," Youngjae said. "We all had a Before."

_Hope_. That was the thing in his chest. Zelo didn't hate the idea of being something more than Second Zelo Unit, murderous puppet of the NRA. 

Youngjae was still talking. "I'm not totally kidding about the hypnosis, either. Honestly our options are kind of limited; they didn't exactly cover brain surgery when they were training us up for the war."

Zelo blinked in alarm. "You think I need surgery?"

The medic saw his worry and gestured emphatically in what was clearly meant to be a comforting way. (Zelo was learning that Youngjae had emphatic gestures to express nearly every emotion. They often involved physical violence against whoever was closest, though this did not appear to communicate actual aggression. Zelo suspected Youngjae would require more study.)

"No, sorry, it's an expression, kind of. I just meant it isn't my area of expertise. I'm gonna have to do some research." Youngjae tilted his head, studying Zelo. "Is that okay? If I try to figure out how to get more of your memories back?"

He seemed to sense it wasn't an easy question, and Zelo was grateful. Because alongside the hope fluttering around distractingly was a deep dread. What if he really had done the awful things the crew clearly suspected him of? He thought of how they'd looked at Jongup--one of their own people. Zelo had come to enjoy the way they talked to him--like a person. What if bringing his memories back just revealed him to be the monster they'd seen in him that first day?

He took a deep breath. He wasn't sure when his emotions had started overpowering his senses. They were making him irrational. Of course he needed all the memories he could get.

"Please," he told Youngjae. The medic smiled slightly and nodded. 

"Okay then," he said. "I can start right now!"

Zelo gave him a pointed look. "Aren't you already in the middle of something?"

Youngjae deflated slightly, glancing at the door. 

"Right," he said. "Jongup."

*

When Yongguk and Daehyun returned to the mess, Youngjae was already there. Jongup was seated in his usual chair, knees pulled up to his chest. He looked very small and very young and Yongguk's heart clearly hadn't been paying attention all morning because it still went soft and protective at the sight. 

Himchan was perched on the edge of the table beside him, arms crossed as he listened to Youngjae, who was talking quickly but quietly about something. Himchan's eyes found Yongguk over the medic's shoulder. He frowned at him.

"Where's Zelo?" Yongguk said by way of greeting. 

"He's gonna do some work in the garden," Youngjae said, turning. His face was strangely eager, his eyes bright, and there was a peculiar energy to the way he held himself. Yongguk gave him a questioning look but Youngjae just shrugged: _Later._

Right. First things first. Yongguk motioned to Himchan and his second-in-command sighed. He brushed Jongup's shoulder as he passed him and followed Yongguk into the kitchen.

"You lied to me."

Himchan winced and looked away. "...Yeah."

"I knew you had feelings for him, but--"

Himchan stiffened. "Who said anything about _feelings_?" He couldn't seem to look at Yongguk as he said it. 

"Your...face, every time you look at him?" Yongguk ventured exasperatedly. Himchan opened his mouth, clearly intending to protest, then closed it again. Yongguk nodded and continued. "But I never thought it would affect your judgment so badly."

" _So badly_ ," Himchan repeated. He shook his head irritably. "Bbang, he's still Jongup. He did terrible things on orders. How is that any different from us? You want to talk about what we did on Yeon?"

Yongguk turned away. "That was different."

"If I thought you really believed that, I'd punch you."

 Yongguk glared at him and Himchan glared back just as fiercely. 

"I know it's a lot. You don't think I know that? But _\--fuck_ , Bbang--this isn't some heartless killer we're talking about, it's _Jongup_. How is it you'll welcome an ex-Sentinel onboard but you can't find it in yourself to forgive one of our own?"

Yongguk winced at this direct hit. "He's not one of us."

"He's not from Mato," Himchan corrected. "But of _course_ he's one of us."

Before Yongguk could answer, the object of their conversation appeared in the doorway. 

"You guys can talk about me while I'm in the room, you know," Jongup said quietly.

Yongguk wasn't sure this was true. It felt considerably harder to think of the mechanic as a Jackdaw when he was standing in front of him; too many memories clouded the air.

Jongup was watching him with a resigned look. 

"Are you kicking me off the ship?" he asked.

Yongguk blinked. Oh, right--consequences. Kicking him out, though...Himchan _had_ made a fair point about Zelo. Yongguk knew himself well enough to know that he was as angry about Jongup's lie as he was about the substance of it. And Himchan had been smart to bring up Yeon. None of them were exactly saints.

"The transmission you were sending--" Yongguk began, but Himchan cut him off.

"He was just trying to find his mother. They got separated." 

Himchan, Yongguk saw, was all too prepared to let bygones be bygones. Yongguk felt frustrated with his own inability to do the same. 

"Look," he said, but he didn't have a chance to finish because just then an alarm began to blare through the ship. 

The trio in the kitchen stared at each other blankly for a beat before recognizing the sound: a proximity alert.

Yongguk was first out of the kitchen. He slipped into the mess just in time to see Daehyun's back as he barreled out the door, headed for the cockpit. Yongguk followed, a familiar clarity falling over his thoughts the way it always did when Cheonsa might be in danger.

"What is it?" he demanded. Daehyun was already hunched over the control panel, hands moving deftly. He swore.

"NRA security freighter."

Yongguk pressed close to Daehyun's side to see. "How close are we?"

"Close enough if we try to make a run for it now they'll pick us up. We'll be within visual range in less than a minute."

Yongguk swore as he stared at the sensor readout and the too-close-for-comfort NRA vessel on it.

"Send that through to the engine room," he said. He knew that's where the others would have gone. He hit his radio. "Himchan, Jongup, you guys seeing this?"

Himchan answered immediately. _"Looks like a party, Bbang."_

"Apparently running isn't an option. Will they be able to detect the Jackdaw tech?" Yongguk said. 

_"No."_ Jongup's voice now, slightly strained. _"I'm shutting it down--if they can't see us on their sensors but they can see us through the window, that's kind of a giveaway. I'm localizing it so it covers Zelo's Sentinel tech. If they board us, though--"_

Yongguk nodded, though of course Jongup couldn't see him. NRA security freighters patrolled populated space, doing random shakedowns at whim. Cheonsa had been the unlucky object of several over the years. They'd been boarded each time, the ship searched for contraband. So far they'd made it through fairly unscathed. But there was contraband and then there was possession of illegal Jackdaw tech and unauthorized NRA property. Fuck.

"I know," Yongguk told Jongup. "Do what you can." 

*

Daehyun had forgotten how huge NRA freighters were. A bit stupid of him when you considered he'd spent eighteen months on one--though in his defense, his cell had been even smaller than Cheonsa's cockpit, and hadn't had much of a view.  

He tried to will his heart out of his throat and back into his chest where it belonged. He couldn't seem to catch a full breath and had to stare at his control panel for a minute until the spots around the edge of his vision faded.

He allowed himself a glance at the freighter through the window. It blocked out the stars completely, a hideous giant hulk of a ship.

"Think they're overcompensating for anything?" he asked. Yongguk only glared out the window, hatred pouring off him palpably. Daehyun cleared his throat. "Uh, Cap?"

Yongguk shook his head slightly and when he looked at him, he looked more himself, less vengeful god. 

"What's our play here?" Daehyun prompted. Fight, he hoped. Anything was better than just _waiting._  Were the cockpit walls drawing closer around him?

Yongguk hit his radio. "Himchan. You guys ready?"

_"Zelo's in the medbay and Jongup localized the cloaking tech there. They shouldn't see anything weird when they scan us."_

Yongguk nodded and sighed heavily, never taking his eyes off the window. The communication panel began to chirp with an incoming message. 

"There's no play, Daehyun-ah," he said. "We cooperate."

*

Himchan was waiting for Yongguk in the docking bay. 

"What are you doing here," Yongguk grumbled, irritated at the little surge of relief he felt at the sight of him.

"Making sure you don't do anything stupid," Himchan said. "I know how you are around NRA guys; you're way too easy to provoke."

" _I'm_ too--" Yongguk began incredulously. The sound of docking clamps cut him off, metal grinding against metal. Himchan winced. "You don't think you should be with Jae and Zelo?" Yongguk asked over the noise. 

"Yeah, that wouldn't look weird at all, half the crew uninjured and just hanging out in the medbay," Himchan shot back.

They heard the rush of suction as the NRA shuttle settled into place. Yongguk glared at Himchan as he opened the door to their enemy, then turned that glare up a few notches as two NRA soldiers stepped onto his ship.

The tomato-red uniforms were just as ugly as Yongguk remembered. They always reminded him of characters out of a book he'd read as a kid, and his mind immediately assigned the soldiers the names Thing One and Thing Two. 

"Identification," Thing One prompted, looking between Himchan and Yongguk. 

Yongguk produced Cheonsa's papers while Thing Two had a staring contest with Himchan. Honestly, as if _Yongguk_ was the one who'd do the antagonizing. 

"We'll need to have a look around," Thing One said. Yongguk's heart sank, though he knew better than to protest. 

"Of course," he said. "We'll give you the tour."

*

Their first stop that mattered was the engine room. Jongup had spread out his tools and some...panels, or...look, Yongguk was no engineer. Jongup had spread out some things and stuff and appeared to be working when they came in. If the Jackdaw tech was in there somewhere, Yongguk couldn't pick it out. 

"Haven't seen one of these outside of a museum," Thing Two said with a smirk, banging on the engine with one fist. Yongguk saw Jongup's jaw clench. The engine was his baby; he didn't even like Yongguk touching it, though he tried to hide this. 

"You haven't seen one of these _in_ a museum, either; she's a custom job," Himchan said disdainfully. Thing Two scowled at him. 

"Where'd you get all the parts, then? I'll need a full inventory," he said, because Thing Twos were obviously petty motherfuckers.

But Jongup brightened and began rattling off information, motioning to different components of the engine too quickly for Yongguk to track. 

"The copper wiring in our coils here came from the Jejan shipyard, we traded for the exterior coils from a ship out of Kaesong, this panel here was from Daejeon's warehouse, and so was this--"

Thing Two's eyes glazed over. "That'll do," he interrupted Jongup's recitation, which Yongguk knew was all bullshit anyway. "If I find out any of these parts are stolen, though--" He glared around at them significantly. Yongguk could see Himchan was itching to ask how he'd find out such a thing and what exactly he'd do if he did, but for once his commander held his tongue. 

The tour moved on. Yongguk gave Jongup a grudging nod as they left, and something loosened in his chest a little as Jongup rolled his eyes in response. Jongup was always great with the NRA, channeling his hatred of them into vacant smiles and passive aggression. The soldiers never knew quite what to do with him.

Yongguk could relate.

They moved on to the medbay, and the real test. If the Things scanned the room, they'd notice a suspicious lack of sensor readings and be tipped off that the crew was hiding something. 

If they looked too closely at Zelo, they were all, quite simply, dead.

Himchan led the way, hands in his pockets as though he were bored. 

"Hey, doc," he greeted Youngjae as they entered. "Got company."

Like Jongup, Youngjae had taken pains to look busy, spreading supplies out around the room. Yongguk had to stare at Zelo; he was in one of Himchan's sweaters and Youngjae had given him a lab coat and a pair of _glasses_ , and he looked both nerdy and almost cartoonishly human. Yongguk avoided Himchan's eyes carefully, suddenly sure that if he looked at him now they'd both burst out laughing at the absurdity. 

"Company?" Youngjae repeated, peering at Thing One and Thing Two. "Are they here to help us with inventory?"

"You're not done yet?" Himchan scoffed. As always, he played along with an ease Yongguk was sure he could never match. 

"This is our medbay," Yongguk interjected. 

"Obviously," Thing Two sniffed. He picked up a roll of bandages and tossed it from hand to hand. Yongguk noticed the way Zelo's spine straightened at the sight of the uniforms, and he tensed. If Zelo decided he was homesick after all, or if some latent programming decided to kick in now, they were screwed. 

But after a beat, Zelo plucked the bandages out of the air mid-toss and set them back down on the table. 

"Excuse me, I was just counting those," he said politely, typing something into the pad in his hands. Thing Two glared at him but Zelo didn't seem to notice. "Doctor, I've finished this section."

Youngjae took a beat too long to remember he was supposed to answer to "doctor" in this little scenario. He was always as adamant that he was just a medic as Jongup was that he was just a mechanic. It occurred to Yongguk that his crew had some self esteem issues.

"Oh, right," Youngjae said. "Excellent." His voice went hearty and Himchan coughed into his fist at the sound of this doctorly tone. Youngjae looked at Thing One and Thing Two, still milling around with far too much curiosity. "Honestly, I could use the extra hands--Grab a pad; with your help we could be done in--six hours--"

"Think we'll pass," Thing Two said. 

"Aw, really?" Youngjae said, sounding so convincingly dismayed that this time Yongguk and Himchan both had to cough to cover their laughter. Zelo patted Himchan on the back dutifully. 

Thing One was glaring at them with suspicion, clearly sensing they were being made fun of. 

"Medical papers," he said abruptly. "All your shots had better be in order if you expect us to let you into our territory. Can't have you people spreading diseases."

Yongguk's amusement slipped away as abruptly as it had come. He and Himchan exchanged a glance, and this time there was no danger they'd laugh. Their papers were in order, as were Jongup's and Daehyun's. But there was Zelo to think about. 

Youngjae must have realized this as quickly as they did, but he didn't show it. 

"Yeah, 'course," he sighed, glancing around at the mess he'd made, the equipment he'd spread across every surface. "They're around here somewhere..."

Himchan slipped past Yongguk and out of the room. 

Youngjae and Zelo made a show of searching for the papers while Thing One and Thing Two alternated between rolling their eyes and poking around. Thing Two's investigations were bringing him closer and closer to the storage locker where Zelo's Sentinel equipment was located. Yongguk dug his fingernails into his palm.

_Hurry, Himchan._

*

The 'pit was closest. Himchan found Daehyun pacing inside. 

"Problem," Himchan announced breathlessly. "We have a problem." He hit his radio, patching Jongup in, and explained the medical papers situation. "These idiots are obviously bored and going on a little power trip, and they're gonna make us produce whatever bullshit they decide they need to let us pass."

"We need a diversion," Daehyun concluded. Himchan nodded.

"Any ideas?"

The pilot considered. "That depends. Can I blow something up?"

"Can you _not_?"

_"Hyungs?"_ Jongup spoke up. _"I have an idea."_

*

Zelo really hoped Youngjae was only pretending to be this disorganized. If not, it was miraculous this crew had survived so long under his care.

"I know they're around--ah! Here! Maybe?" Youngjae said loudly, distracting the soldier who was wandering uncomfortably close to Zelo's unused equipment. Zelo looked at the captain, who stood in the doorway, looking into the hall. The commander had disappeared moments before. Himchan had not so far demonstrated a particular tendency towards cowardice, so Zelo had to assume he had a plan.

"You don't keep everyone's papers together?" the soldier asked Youngjae. Apparently he'd only found one record. 

"I keep meaning to devise a better system," Youngjae said. 

Zelo continued to do inventory while mostly he watched the soldiers. He felt...odd.

There was a certain tugging in his gut when he looked at them. He felt slightly sick. There was also something in him that seemed to be _waiting_ \--for them to give him an order, maybe. The physical symptoms were distracting. 

Mentally, Zelo wanted to grab the nearest soldier and snap his neck. He wasn't sure if this impulse was the result of spending a week with the Matoki crew, if their hatred of the NRA had already seeped into him. Or if it had to do with the memories Youngjae wanted to help him retrieve. Either way, it was disturbing.

A whine of feedback cut through the room and a voice came through the taller soldier's radio. 

_"Kang, come in."_

He tapped his radio. "Here, what is it?"

_"Get back to the ship. We've got Jackdaws coming up to port. Combat scenario, get the civilians out of the way."_

Jackdaws? Zelo saw Yongguk and Youngjae exchange a swift look. 

"Heard," Kang said shortly, cutting off his radio. He handed the records back to Youngjae and turned to Yongguk. "You heard them--we've got Jackdaws coming in; you need to move your ship to a safe distance."

Zelo blinked at this sudden switch from bully to protector. But the others seemed unsurprised.

"Gladly," Yongguk murmured. "I'll get you back to the docking bay--"

He led them out. Youngjae heaved a loud sigh. 

" _That_ was close," he said. 

"...This timing feels very convenient," Zelo said. Youngjae smiled. 

"You're learning."

*

Himchan had no idea what Jongup was doing, but that was nothing new.

The mechanic looked strange in Daehyun's usual seat, hands racing across the controls. 

"Do you have any idea--?" Daehyun murmured. 

"Nope." Himchan glanced at the sensor readout. The Jackdaw ship was large and coming on fast. It looked real enough to him. 

Yongguk appeared in the doorway. The sounds of docking clamps releasing had reverberated through the ship moments before.

"What's happening?" Yongguk said. 

"Jongup's doing a--thing," Himchan explained. 

"Are they falling for it?" Jongup said without looking up. Yongguk looked baffled, but he nodded. 

"They want us to move to a safe distance."

Jongup snorted slightly. "Good." He moved to let Daehyun sit. "We can go now."

"What did you do?" Himchan said. Jongup's eyes were bright, intent, the way they were when he was dealing with a particularly juicy problem. Himchan had always liked this look on him.

"It's like an echo," Jongup said. "The Jackdaws used to do it all the time when they were outgunned. You project an image of a ship to fool the other ship's sensors. Make them think they're surrounded so they don't try to run for it. By the time they realize there's plenty of open space, it's too late. I used the memory file of the Jackdaw ship we took the cloak from."

"Neat trick," Himchan murmured. It sounded like magic to him, but he was no tech guy.

"How much time does this buy us?" Yongguk demanded. 

"Not long. I only had time to project a single ship. But once we're out of visual range I can activate the cloaking tech again."

"Two minutes and we'll be out of visual range," Daehyun said. "Ready to punch it."

Yongguk was staring at Jongup. Himchan found himself holding his breath.

"Not bad," Yongguk said finally. Jongup gave a half-shrug. He reached over Daehyun and tapped in a few commands. "Ready with the cloak."

Daehyun counted it down. Himchan watched the NRA ship quickly recede in the window. Good riddance. 

"Now."

Jongup tapped a button. "We're cloaked," he said simply, turning back to Yongguk.

"That NRA freighter's still gearing up to fight a phantom," Daehyun said. "No pursuit."

"Not yet. They'll figure it out," Jongup said. 

"Not soon enough," Yongguk said. He was still watching Jongup, his brow furrowed. Before he could say more, Youngjae and Zelo came in. Zelo had ditched the ridiculous glasses and lab coat, but he was still cozy-looking in Himchan's sweater. 

"Please tell me the Jackdaw ship was--" Youngjae began. 

"Jongup," Yongguk said. 

"Thank god, cause we'll definitely need time to forge medical papers for Zelo," Youngjae said. "Nice timing, Jonguppie." He gave him a slightly uncertain smile. 

"We all need to get our shit together now that we're back in populated space," Yongguk said. He shook his head. "My fault, I should have made sure we were ready." 

Typical Bbang, always ready to shoulder the blame. The last of Himchan's anger towards his friend ebbed away. That was the thing about the NRA--they made you remember who the real enemy was. 

"We'll be ready next time," he spoke up. "I'll make up some papers for Zelo." He smiled at him. "We'll have to get you a name."

Zelo looked startled. Youngjae patted his shoulder. "We can worry about that tomorrow," he said. 

"Tomorrow," Yongguk agreed. He put a careful hand on Daehyun's shoulder. The pilot, Himchan saw, was paler than usual, but he relaxed slightly at Yongguk's touch. "Tonight let's--clean up _inventory_ \--" Yongguk gave Youngjae an arch look and the medic snorted. 

"It worked, didn't it?"

"Thought I was dreaming when I saw that," Himchan put in. "Two years and you've never done a real inventory--admit it, you have no idea what we have in there."

Youngjae scoffed but Zelo spoke up. "We have twenty-two rolls of bandages, sixteen doses of anesthetic, four of numbing agent..." He trailed off, taking in the stares. "I didn't know we were only pretending."

Youngjae's eyes narrowed. "You're joking," he concluded. Himchan saw Zelo had pulled his hands into his sweater sleeves. The unconsciously childlike gesture hit Himchan the same way seeing Zelo's dimple had the first time.

"I hope that's all right," Zelo said. Youngjae beamed. 

"You can stay," he said. His smile slipped and he glanced at Yongguk. "Right?"

Yongguk was frowning thoughtfully. His eyes flickered around the crew, resting for a beat on Zelo, then Jongup. Himchan had to urge to put himself between them, but he waited.

"Of course," Yongguk said finally. "No one's going anywhere. Everybody get some rest. Tomorrow...will be better." His eyes lingered on Jongup and something passed between them, some understanding, and Himchan felt the tension of the day begin to slacken. He could breathe easier.

He hid his relief behind activity, tugging Zelo's sleeve, earning a wide-eyed stare.

"C'mon, kid," he told him. "Time to find you your own room."

*

Everything felt slightly unreal as Jongup cleaned up the engine room. He couldn't quite believe he was still here, that apparently he wasn't going to be shot or tossed out an airlock or dumped on the nearest station. It was far more than he'd hoped for.

When the room was spotless, he hesitated. He knew where he wanted to go, but he felt a superstitious certainty that he'd used up his luck for the day, and if he went, it would go badly.

He went anyway.

Himchan's bunk was slightly larger than Jongup's, and messier in a cozy, lived-in way. Jongup drank in each detail: the dog-eared book on Himchan's pillow, the forgotten cup of tea long-since cooled on his bedside table, the rumple of his blankets. Jongup smoothed them gently and sat down to wait. 

It wasn't long. 

Himchan paused in the doorway at the sight of him. His eyes traveled down Jongup and back to his face. Jongup couldn't even begin to guess what he saw there.

"Rough day?" Himchan's voice was low, husky in the way it got when he was tired. Jongup was silent. Himchan sighed and came inside, kicking his boots off, never taking his eyes off Jongup's face. 

He folded his arms and stared down at him--not meaning to intimidate, just...looking. 

"What are you doing in here, Jongup?"

Jongup had to clear his throat before he could speak.

"We--" An emphatic, specific _we_ \--"aren't done yet," he said. 

Himchan closed the door.


	8. Chapter 8

Yongguk had accused Himchan of _feelings_. Ha. Yongguk was exactly the type of person who'd require _feelings_ to have sex with someone.  Himchan had no such romantic notions. He had needs, that was all. Jongup had been there and willing and they'd used each other, end of story.

Except for some reason his chest ached at the sight of him, sitting on his bed. He had a smear of grease on one cheek that looked like a bruise.

"Sit down?" Jongup said. Himchan hesitated only a beat before joining him. He'd never been able to deny Jongup anything.

 _Feelings_ , imaginary Bbang taunted. Shut up, imaginary Bbang.

Jongup's hands were working anxiously together. Himchan stared at them. Funny how he knew by memory the way each callous felt against his skin, but he'd never really let himself just _look_ before. Just looking was against the rules.

He thought the rules were about to change. 

Jongup broke the silence.

"I just wanted to know why." His voice was very quiet. Himchan looked at him.

"Why what?"

"Why...if you knew what I am...why'd you...get involved with me?"

Himchan winced. It was a question he'd asked himself repeatedly over the past two years. Letting Jongup live after he'd recognized him was one thing. Letting him live _on Cheonsa_ and keeping his secret was another. And their whole...thing...was something else entirely, something he'd never had the courage to examine too closely. 

 _Feeeeelings,_ imaginary Bbang sang.

"Oh, shut up," Himchan muttered. Jongup flinched. "Not you," Himchan said with a sigh. He scrubbed his hand over his face. He felt itchy with nerves. 

Inspiration struck, and he turned to Jongup. "Why did _you_?" he countered. "If you really thought I'd kill you, why would you...?"

Jongup bit his lip. He was fidgeting badly. Without thinking, Himchan pressed a palm to his knee to stop it jiggling. Then they both stared at his hand for a beat. Himchan went to pull it back, but Jongup captured it suddenly in one of his.

"I made better credit at the ore refinery," he said. 

Himchan blinked at the non sequitur. "Sorry?"

Jongup was looking at him intensely, willing him to understand. Himchan didn't. Jongup's hand was warm around his. They'd never held hands before.

"The ore refinery where we met," Jongup said. "I got the job to save up, try to buy information on my old ship. I made a lot more there than I ever could on Cheonsa."

Himchan frowned. "I can't tell if you're bragging or complaining."

(Hand-holding update: it was still happening. Now Himchan knew what Jongup's palm felt like under his thumb.)

"Neither," Jongup said, elbowing him. "I'm trying to say--" He let out a huff. 

Himchan waited. Years of friendship with Yongguk had prepared him for Jongup; the two had similar approaches to talking in that they didn't, much. Himchan wasn't patient as a rule, but he'd learned well enough to fake it if he ever wanted to hear his best friends speak.

So he waited for Jongup to work through his thoughts. It was fine. He could wait all day.

"I'm trying to say," Jongup finally repeated, "I was never here for the credit. And... _this_...was never just about sex for me." His eyes rested somewhere on Himchan's throat, darting up to his face for a fraction of a beat and away again. Himchan could feel his pulse, light and quick, where their hands touched. Or was that his own?

He should probably say something now. He put imaginary hands over imaginary Bbang's ears.

"Me neither," he admitted softly. 

Jongup's eyes flashed up to his face and now he looked _hopeful_ and his hand was tightening around Himchan's and _someone's_ heart was beating very fast and Himchan wasn't prepared to guess whose. 

Suddenly Jongup was crawling into his damn lap, staring down at him determinedly. Himchan's hands found their way to his hips.

"I stayed for this," Jongup said.

Himchan blinked. "For--?"

Jongup sighed. "For-- _this_ , for us, for whatever this is." He paused. "For you."

Himchan's grip on his hips tightened slightly. 

"Yeah?" he said, shooting for unconcerned but crashing and burning somewhere in the field of pathetic vulnerability. All his long-ignored _feelings_ were rushing in, waving their arms and jumping up and down, basking in his attention. Goddammit.

He'd never learned how to do the whole romantic thing. There wasn't room in war for love--sex, sure, and Himchan had gotten his. He'd lost track of how many of his one-time partners were dead now. So by the time Jongup came along, he simply hadn't known how to put words to the way he eventually made Himchan's heart feel too big for his chest. He'd done his best to pretend each of their nights together was their first and last, and Jongup had seemed happy to follow his lead.

Jongup was trailing his fingertips along Himchan's face, frowning at him with that _look_ in his eyes he got when faced with a technical problem he was eager to solve. 

Himchan cleared his throat. "You're, um. Staring," he said. 

Jongup just nodded and carried right on. His fingers continued their gentle exploration of Himchan's face, tracing the lines of his eyebrows, thumb brushing the outline of his lower lip. It was making it very difficult to think. 

"I can't believe you knew," Jongup said finally, shaking his head. "You're..." He sighed again. Himchan would have given quite a bit to know the end of that sentence, but if the tables were turned, he didn't know what he'd have said, either. Jongup was _Jongup_ \--captive, Jackdaw, mechanic. He had a sweet tooth and more patience than anyone Himchan had ever met, and he could fix anything you put in front of him and his smile was made of light and Himchan was--

Kissing him. Himchan missed the transition somehow, didn't know who moved first or if they moved at the same time, but Jongup's lips were on his. It was far from their first kiss, but this one felt more solid somehow, as if some invisible barrier that had always been there had only just now dropped away. His hands slipped down Jongup's thighs, pulling him more fully against himself. Jongup's hand gripped Himchan's hair as he deepened the kiss. 

For a long, blissful beat, there was nothing but this, no room in Himchan's mind for anything but Jongup, every sense overwhelmed.

But when they broke to breathe, doubts crowded in.

"You don't have to do this," Himchan told him. Jongup pulled back with a frown.

"What?"

"Just because I kept your secret, you don't _owe_ me or anything." This felt like an important thing to say. Jongup's eyes narrowed.

"Himchan?"

"...Jongup?"

"Shut the fuck up." He kissed him again, and if it was possible for someone to convey annoyance through a kiss, Jongup was doing it now. Probably Himchan shouldn't have found this comforting, but he did. He couldn't help but smile against Jongup's lips until the younger man pulled back. 

"What are you doing," he said grumpily. Himchan laughed.

"I feel like I'm being _scolded_."

"Well you're an idiot," Jongup said. "I'm not here because I think I owe you. I'm here because." And he stopped, as if that was any way to finish a sentence. Himchan raised his eyebrows and waited. "I'm here because."

He looked disgruntled, which Jongup rarely looked, because Jongup was mostly smiley or blank, although Himchan had learned to decipher his various blanknesses over the years, and none of them were as blank as they appeared. He thought this one conveyed slight panic. 

Himchan let it go on for a beat before taking pity on him.

"While you're thinking that over," he said, and kissed him again. Jongup melted against him and his hands groped for the hem of Himchan's shirt. They parted again so Himchan could shed it, and then it seemed like a _fuck it_ situation and he pulled Jongup's off too. Jongup leaned in again but Himchan's attention was arrested by the familiar scar running down his torso.

Jongup followed his gaze.

"Oh," he said.

Himchan's hands were drawn to it, trailing along its ragged edge. He had always assumed it was some battle scar; they all had them. But to think it had been done to Jongup when he was a child to force his mother's cooperation made his head spin with rage and sorrow. 

Jongup was watching him guardedly, as though he expected him to pull back in revulsion.

"You don't have to talk about it," Himchan said. He could feel Jongup's muscles, tensed under his skin. "But you can, you know." He looked at him. Jongup's eyes went distant, and he was quiet for so long Himchan didn't think he'd speak, but then he did.

"It was a few weeks after they took us. We didn't know at first why they hadn't just killed us with everyone else."

Privately, Himchan doubted this. Someone as brilliant as Jongup's mother would have figured it out. But Jongup was just a kid. 

"When they told her what they wanted...she refused. So they took me and--and--" He stuttered to a halt. Himchan slid both hands around his back, caressing with his thumbs. Jongup swallowed, his lips almost disappearing as he pressed them together. "Anyway, that was that," he said finally. Himchan nodded, unwilling to press him.

"Okay."

He scooted back on the bed, one hand on Jongup's thigh to keep him firmly in place. Jongup gave him a questioning look and then let out a _meep_ as Himchan tipped them over. They flailed for a moment, limbs tangling, before settling on their sides, facing each other. 

"Long day," Himchan said quietly. "You should get some sleep." He saw his meaning sink in: _you should stay here_. Then Jongup was pushing himself up on one arm to lean over Himchan.

"I'm not tired," he said, lips brushing against his.

Come to think of it, Himchan wasn't either. 

*

"How about Doyun?" Youngjae suggested. 

Zelo didn't look up from his close scrutiny of a tray of new potatoes. "Lee Doyun was executed in 2209 for murdering the entire crew of his research ship."

Youngjae blinked. 

"Is that a no?" 

Zelo looked at the ceiling meditatively. "He cut them up and hid them in the air ducts. Who was he hiding them from? Everyone was dead."

"That's a no," Youngjae decided. He put a line through _Doyun_ on his list of names and moved on. "What about Eunjung?"

"2163. Kim Eunjung was a composer," Zelo said. 

"Hey, music, that's good!"

"His _Concerto in A Minor_ was so bad it was said to make his audience physically ill. Vomiting in the aisles." Zelo blinked at Youngjae solemnly. If the medic didn't know better, he'd think he was trying to _provoke_ him. But he had a better poker face than--well, Jongup. Youngjae pushed the thought away, still not quite sure what to do with it. _Later_ , he kept telling himself. He'd decide what to think about Jongup later.

For now, he gave Zelo a suspicious look--seriously, he was working _so hard_ to look innocent, all soil-covered and huge-eyed--and turned back to his list. 

"Fine. What about Haneul?"

But Zelo shook his head. "Park Haneul, 1997, psychotherapist, convicted of emotionally torturing his patients."

 _"Emotionally torturing them how?"_ Daehyun's voice crackled over the radio. Youngjae jumped; he hadn't realized it was on. 

"Stop eavesdropping!" he bellowed. 

 _"Wouldn't have to if you all'd come keep me company in here,"_ Daehyun said unrepentantly. Youngjae fought the urge to throw something at the radio. 

Daehyun had been even less willing than usual to leave the cockpit since their run-in with the NRA, blaming himself for their close call since he'd had the audacity to _abandon his post_. Of course, being Jung Daehyun, he still demanded company and attention, and when he couldn't get anyone into the 'pit with him, he'd simply tap into wherever things were happening elsewhere on the ship. 

"Everyone has their own shit to do, Dae. Foster a sense of self-sufficiency."

 _"Zelo, how was Park Haneul torturing his patients?"_ Daehyun asked, ignoring Youngjae. Youngjae widened his eyes threateningly at Zelo. It was hard to tell if he couldn't read his expression or if, more likely, Youngjae simply didn't read as a viable threat to the former Sentinel.

"He experimented on them with hypnosis. Apparently he drove some of them quite mad," Zelo said. Daehyun's laugh brayed through the radio and Youngjae grimaced.

 _"Hey, Jae, weren't you going to hypnotize Zelo? Get out of there, Zelo!"_ Daehyun exclaimed dramatically.

"Are you making these up?" Youngjae asked. Zelo's eyes widened. 

"Of course not. My database is very thorough."

_"Getting paranoid in your old age."_

"Just fly the ship, asshole. Fine." Youngjae trailed his finger down the list, stopping at random. "Taesong."

Zelo paused, eyes faraway and thoughtful as he tried to come up with some horror story about someone named Taesong. 

 _"Nope, no good,_ " that terrible annoying Daehyun interrupted. _"I went to school with this guy Kim Taesong? Biggest. Asshole. Ever. We can't call Zelo_ Taesong _, that's the worst_. _"_

" _You're_ the worst," Youngjae corrected. "And we don't have to call him anything different, it's just for his papers." He tossed the list aside, studying Zelo while trying not to be too obvious about it. 

He supposed it _was_ a big decision, choosing your own name. Like choosing an identity, almost. Who knew how long Zelo had had someone else choosing for him. No wonder he was resisting. 

Zelo sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by potting soil and seedlings. The garden was already flourishing under his care, and Youngjae for one was excited to eat a vegetable that wasn't cabbage, i.e. the only vegetable the rest of them could reliably grow. Zelo obviously had the touch, or rather the obsessive attention to detail, that the plants needed.

He cut quite the figure. The cannon hookups on his arms were clearly visible at the moment, as he was in an old t-shirt of Yongguk's. It had been oversized on the captain but was stretched to the limit on Zelo's giant frame. He'd rolled up his pants--they'd been too short to begin with anyway--and had on a pair of fluffy blue socks from Daehyun's knitting days. It made for an endearing picture, and Youngjae felt a surprising surge of affection as he watched. 

Zelo glanced up, catching his stare, and immediately looked concerned. 

"What is it?" he said. Youngjae opened his mouth to say what was on his mind, then recalled the radio, and Daehyun--who'd been quiet for two minutes now. This was concerning.

"Nothing," Youngjae said. He pushed himself to his feet and stretched. He didn't know how Zelo could sit crouched this way for so long, but it never seemed to bother him. Ugh, _youth_. "I'll be right back, okay?"

Zelo just nodded and returned to his work. Youngjae watched him for a beat, something strange in his chest, then shook it off and made his way to the cockpit.

Daehyun was there, of course, as he'd been for two days now. Cheonsa had been skirting the Bends, a system of nebulas, since they dodged the NRA. It was a decent place to hide out while they forged some papers for Zelo, although of course it was more than that. Everyone was still processing, licking their wounds after Jongup's revelation. Youngjae didn't know where the others stood on it, which was fair enough because he still didn't know where _he_ stood on it. 

In any case, he didn't think Daehyun was in here brooding about the mechanic. Youngjae bumped Daehyun's shoulder with his elbow. The pilot looked up, startled. 

"You stopped talking; I assumed you were dead," Youngjae said.

"You wish," Daehyun said immediately. He sounded like himself but he looked wan and exhausted. Youngjae folded his arms and glared. 

"I'm not so sure I was wrong. When's the last time you slept?" There was a suspicious number of coffee mugs lying around. 

"I'm fine."

"Sleeping isn't optional, Dae." Youngjae tilted his head and asked, more quietly, "Is it the nightmares again?"

Daehyun didn't answer, merely plotting in some course correction Youngjae was sure was unnecessary. 

"C'mon," he prompted. "It's getting bad again, isn't it."

It had been a while since an NRA run-in had triggered a bout of nightmares for the pilot. He often chose sleeplessness over the dreams. He shrugged now, not looking at Youngjae. 

"It's not a big deal."

"It is if it's keeping you from sleeping," Youngjae objected. "And if it's keeping you from _eating_ , like oh my _god_ \--"

Daehyun hadn't even come to the mess for meals the past few days. Youngjae would have noticed it sooner but mealtimes had turned rather haphazard. He suspected Jongup was avoiding everyone, not realizing they were all mostly avoiding each other, too. 

"I eat fine."

Youngjae glared at the pilot worriedly. Monosyllabic Daehyun was never a good sign. Youngjae remembered his mood swings very well from the earliest days of their friendship, when Daehyun would be pleased to see him at his door and invite him in eagerly only to fall into brooding quiet once he was there. 

"You want to sleep with me?" he suggested. Daehyun went still, then something like a smirk graced his lips.

"Why, Youngjae, this _is_ a surprise," he said. Youngjae just nodded. 

"You can curl up at the foot of my bed like a dog," he said generously. 

"You know, I asked around and it turns out no one likes you."

" _Or_ ," Youngjae said. "You could take the cot in the medbay now that Zelo's got his own bunk. I've got some shit to do in there but I'll try to be quiet." He said it off-handedly, as if it were a normal occurrence for one of them to be unable to sleep alone. 

Daehyun's smirk faded. "I'm _fine_."

"You're not, you're--tired and gross and it smells in here. You're turning into a shut-in; it's very worrying." Youngjae poked his neck and Daehyun yelped as he found his ticklish spot. 

"It does not _smell_ in here."

"It does, a little." A new voice from the doorway. They turned to find Himchan. Youngjae had barely seen him in two days, but he looked a good deal better than Daehyun at the moment. 

"Go back to your love nest," Daehyun snapped. Himchan rolled his eyes. 

"I'm not the one with the nest," he said, eyeing the cocoon of blankets Daehyun had pulled around himself. "Go throw that in the wash--or--burn it; you may have to burn it--"

"Did you want something?" Daehyun interrupted tersely.

"Yeah. I feel like flying; get out of my seat," Himchan said, kicking at it. Daehyun glared at him but Youngjae felt a rush of gratitude for the commander. Being gentle had never worked when Daehyun was in a bad place; he needed someone to poke him with a stick until he snapped. 

For the moment he just grumbled as Himchan pulled him out of the chair, pressing the mess of blankets into his arms. 

"Go, just--shower and lie down in the medbay you disgusting--" 

Daehyun kicked at him but slouched out of the cockpit, blankets trailing behind him.

"Thanks," Youngjae offered. Himchan settled himself in the chair and arched an eyebrow. "For annoying him so much he actually moved," Youngjae clarified. 

"You can count on me."

He snorted. Himchan was nothing if not self-aware.

He tapped out a few commands, then leaned back in his seat to peer up at Youngjae. "What?"

"Where've you been the past few days?" Youngjae said. Himchan looked away. 

"I've been here."

"So you and Jongup are...?"

"Ignoring all of you, yes."

"Himch _an_." Youngjae rolled his eyes, aggrieved. Himchan smirked at him. 

"What do you really want to know, Jae?"

Youngjae sighed, then actually thought about it. He supposed he didn't need to know if Himchan really was coming from some love nest or whatever gross thing Daehyun had called it. Whatever thing he had with Jongup had been going on for ages already, so if it still was, it didn't change much. 

"Is he okay?" he settled on. Himchan's expression softened. 

"You know you can still _talk_ to him, right? Ask him yourself."

"He's been hiding in your bunk the whole time," Youngjae grumbled, although this wasn't the whole truth. He'd heard Jongup clattering around in the engine room the day before. Youngjae had paced in the hall for fifteen minutes, debating, before moving on without going in. 

Himchan cast him a skeptical look. "Uh huh." He turned back to the control panel, sighed, and pushed back from his seat. "Autopilot's on. We don't need to be in here til we decide to actually _go_ somewhere."

"Right. We're still working on a name for Zelo," Youngjae said. Himchan nodded. 

"No rush," he said.

*

When Daehyun closed his eyes, he saw walls. 

When Daehyun closed his eyes, he saw the mechanical brand, red-hot, coming toward his arm. The space where his tattoo had been burned with phantom fire.

When Daehyun closed his eyes, he saw a sharp shank in his own shaking hand.

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. The ceiling was better. The ceiling was beautiful. 

The lights in the medbay were on, but low. Youngjae hadn't come in to do his bullshit busy work yet. Daehyun knew he'd only offered because he thought Daehyun needed a baby-sitter.

Daehyun wasn't so sure he was wrong.

It was humiliating. He'd kept the pieces straight in his head for so long, and one stupid encounter with the NRA had thrown him into disarray. 

He was so tired.

He squeezed his eyes shut. 

The brand. The baby-faced guard who woke Daehyun up with an electric shock if he seemed too comfortable. Walls. Walls. Walls.

He opened his eyes again with a groan, and jumped. Yongguk stood over him. 

" _Fuck_ , hyung," Daehyun complained, then remembered himself. "I mean, Captain." 

Yongguk rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of the cot. "Can you take a sleeping pill?" he asked quietly. Daehyun let out an involuntary shudder. He'd tried it before. Drugs had given his nightmares a frightening pull, trapping him inside them as he struggled to wake up, lucidity coming and going in waves. 

"Not...really," he said. Probably Youngjae had something that would knock him out enough to quiet the dreams, but his dread of them was too great. 

Yongguk nodded. He held up a padd. "I was going to look through job postings, see what makes sense for our next move," he said. "You mind if I hang out?"

Daehyun winced. Humiliating. But he bit back his shame. Yongguk knew a thing or two about nightmares. "Go for it."

Yongguk settled himself at the foot of the cot, his thighs a gentle pressure against Daehyun's toes. He leaned against the wall and began reading. Daehyun watched him for a beat, envying his calm. It had been a crazy few weeks, with Zelo and Jongup and the NRA, but you'd never know it to look at the captain. 

Without looking up, Yongguk put a hand on Daehyun's ankle, a comforting weight. 

Daehyun closed his eyes.

*

Jongup needed fresh underwear. 

He'd stolen some of Himchan's the day before--his last pair, as it happened. Himchan hadn't complained, simply pulling his pants up over bare skin with a grimace, then winking at Jongup once he got himself adjusted. It had taken all of Jongup's self control not to tackle him back to bed.

He knew what it was like to wake up beside him now. He'd done it twice, and both mornings were lodged in his memory forever. He even hoped they might have displaced a few of his less happy memories to make room for all the details--the way Himchan had pulled him against himself, even in his sleep, and the small proprietary sound he made when he did. The way, that first morning, Himchan's eyes had gone from confused to pleased when he saw Jongup beside him, and flopped over, resting his head on Jongup's shoulder and slipping his leg over his hips, pinning him in place.

 _Good,_ he'd said, leaving a significant pause before adding, _morning_.

It _had_ been good.

It had been good sleeping beside him, although he ran hotter than Jongup had realized. The problem was easily bypassed by him sleeping naked (Himchan being naked was, in Jongup's opinion, an underused solution to many of life's problems).

And the sex had been good the night before. Okay so it had always been _good_ \--damned good, really. This was damned good, but with a hundred percent more eye contact, which made every nerve in Jongup's body come alive in a way he was quite sure they hadn't been before. He'd had to think of engine schematics while he prepped Himchan to stop himself pushing in before he was ready. As it was, he still very nearly lost it at look of trust on Himchan's face when he entered him. 

If only he could stay in that moment. It had been two days now and he'd snuck out briefly to check the engine, but otherwise he'd stayed holed up in Himchan's bunk, unwilling and unable to face the others. 

 _You're just putting off the inevitable and making it harder on yourself_ , Himchan had said, and of course he was right, but still. Jongup wasn't ready to see all the ways the truth of his past would change his relationships with the others. He was willing to bet that this new closeness with Himchan would turn out to be the exception rather than the rule.

But he was out of underwear, and his stomach was growling, and he wasn't sure where Himchan had gotten off to. He'd tried to convince him to stay, but shiny new closeness or not, Himchan was still Himchan. He'd looked at him kindly, understandingly, but sternly. 

_You don't have to hide, Jongup-ah._

Jongup wasn't so sure.

Reluctantly, he pulled on his pants and a clean t-shirt of Himchan's, and ventured out of the bunk. He paused in the hallway, rocking slightly, listening, but all was quiet. He made his way to the mess, passing through to the kitchen. 

Youngjae must have cooked last; the leftovers looked slightly darker than was strictly appetizing, but Jongup was too hungry to care. He wolfed down cold noodles and burned meat substitute while he stood in front of the fridge.

"Take a breath, Jonguppie." 

He turned with a jerk to find the medic leaning in the doorway. Jongup went to say something like _hi_ or _thanks for scaring me to death_ but choked instead. He managed to put the food down on the counter without dropping it and then Youngjae was there, pounding him on the back. 

"This is why we eat at the table," he chided. He poured Jongup a glass of water, which Jongup drank in one go. 

"Thanks," he rasped. Youngjae shrugged and grabbed the food, carrying it out to the mess, motioning to Jongup. He trailed after him and they sat, Youngjae picking at the food with his fingers in between Jongup's bites.

Jongup thought he would say something about the past two days, or the day before and all its revelations. Instead, Youngjae said, "Yongguk hyung found us a few job possibilities. We can vote on it once Dae wakes up."

Jongup frowned, though he was heartened by the use of _we_ , and this apparent return to normalcy. 

"Why's he asleep in the middle of the day?" he asked. Youngjae hesitated. 

"His...insomnia came back," he said finally. Jongup winced. 

"Was it the NRA ship, or...?" _Or was it me_ , he couldn't bring himself to ask. Youngjae seemed to understand.

"Those assholes," he confirmed. 

"He hasn't slept at all?" Guilt flooded Jongup as he thought of how well he'd slept the past two nights--better than he had in years, honestly. 

"Himchan finally kicked him out of the cockpit and Yongguk's sitting on him in the medbay. He was snoring last I checked," Youngjae said, smiling slightly. So that explained Himchan's disappearance, and the preternatural quiet in the halls.

"And Zelo?" Jongup prompted. He felt like he'd been out of the world for weeks and not simply holed up for a few days.

"Gardening, of course," Youngjae said, rolling his eyes fondly. Jongup arched an eyebrow at his tone. "Trying to pick a name. Or just stall until I lose my mind; I can't decide which."

"The second one sounds more fun," Jongup said. He wasn't actually sure it was okay to joke like this yet, but after a short pause, Youngjae snorted. 

"Yeah, yeah," he said, a little too airily. His smile was slightly guarded, but at least he _was_ smiling. He pushed back from the table, looked at his greasy hand for a beat, then at Jongup. "Is that Himchan's shirt?"

"Yeah, wh--"

Youngjae swiped his hand down the sleeve with a smirk. Jongup rolled his eyes, but it was such a _Youngjae_ move that he couldn't be outraged on Himchan's behalf. 

"Tell him it's his turn to cook tonight," Youngjae said, heading for the door. He spun around as he reached it and added pointedly, "And _you're_ on dish duty, you lazy--" and he continued his spin straight out the door. Jongup heard him grousing his way down the hall. 

So. One down, anyway. 

Smiling slightly, and feeling a weight lift from his shoulders, Jongup went to check on his engine.

*

"I hear you're practically living in here."

Zelo looked up sharply to find Himchan hovering just outside the doorway. Zelo had never actually seen him in the garden before. He gave him an uncertain smile. 

It had been Himchan who had cleared out bunk space for him a few days before. Zelo had not expected such kindness from him, as he'd been the wariest of the crew to accept him onboard. It had made him reevaluate the commander. 

"Youngjae collects me for meals," he said. Himchan's lips twitched.

" _Drags_ you to them, you mean." His eyes scanned the room. "You've done a lot in here."

"The work is...satisfying," Zelo said, which was an understatement. He was pretty sure the jolt he felt at the sight of each morning's new growth could be classified as happiness. "It's more complicated than I expected."

"What's giving you trouble?"

Zelo studied him, wondering at the question. "You know about gardening?"

Himchan hesitated, then gave a half shrug. "I grew up on a farm."

Zelo blinked. Youngjae hadn't mentioned this, only that Himchan hated taking gardening shifts. But there was so much he didn't know about the crew that he simply made room for the new information. He pushed himself to his feet. 

"Something's wrong with the broccoli," he said, venturing a bit further down the row, wondering if Himchan would follow. He did, slowly. Zelo stopped in front of the tray, where a slight rotten odor hung in the air. The vegetables had a brownish tinge. "I thought I could reuse the leftover soil, but--"

Himchan plunged a hand into the dirt, feeling around for a beat before pulling out one of the plants.

"Clubroot," he said, showing Zelo the way the roots had gone swollen, tuberous and black. "Nasty shit. Lives in the soil. You're better off starting the tray over, and this time add lime a few weeks before you add the seedlings." He tossed the deformed plant into the refuse bin in the corner. 

"Thank you," Zelo said. Himchan nodded absently, his eyes roving over the other trays, which thankfully were faring better than the broccoli. "What kind of farm was it?"

Himchan's gaze had settled on the wall of blooms. He nodded at them. "Mostly flowers," he said. "We had a greenhouse like this for vegetables we sold in town, but we were big in flower exports."

Zelo looked at the purple blossoms and tried to imagine an entire farm of them. "That must have been beautiful."

"It was." Himchan's voice was soft and wistful. He seemed to remember himself after a beat and cleared his throat. "Anyway. We're heading back out there for a job and we need to get your papers in order first. Did you pick a name yet?"

Zelo winced. "Not yet."

"What's the hold up?" Himchan sounded curious rather than accusing. He began pulling the spoiled broccoli out of the soil one by one and tossing the heads into the bin. Zelo helped, grateful for something to occupy his hands and give him a moment to think.

"Youngjae gave me a lot of suggestions," he said finally. "But none of them felt...I thought maybe he'd say one and it would be..." He shook his head, unable to find the words he needed. Himchan had turned to him.

"You thought he'd say a name and you'd realize it was your _real_ name," he guessed quietly. 

Zelo nodded. "It was always unlikely, but...I guess I hoped. It was stupid."

"Sounds human to me," Himchan said. He returned to the task at hand. Zelo stared at him for a beat, struck by that word. "You know this is just for your papers, though," the commander continued. He examined another cluster of deformed roots. "We can always change it when we figure out your real name."

 _When_. "Of course," Zelo said quickly. "I'll tell Youngjae he can just pick something."

Himchan glanced at him, his gaze thoughtful. 

"Geunsoo," he said. 

"What?"

"The name, Geunsoo." 

Zelo considered, his mind automatically scanning what he could access of his database. "Who was Geunsoo?" Because there was something familiar in the way Himchan said it.

"A guy Bbang and I used to know. A friend." Himchan paused, turning back to the tray. "He was killed at the end. Not really surprising. He was one of the sweetest guys I ever knew. We all used to say he wasn't made for war." He glanced at Zelo. "I think you weren't either."

Zelo wondered if he'd meant to compliment him. It made something go warm in his chest, at any rate.

"Geunsoo," he repeated, testing it. There was no spark, no click or burst of recognition. But his database wasn't bringing up any ancient warlords with the name, either, so that was something. "Okay. Thank you."

Himchan shrugged and brushed the dirt from his hands. 

"I'll tell Youngjae," he said. "It's time we got out of here."


	9. Chapter 9

**Tell me what you see.**

Zelo looks. 

_Are you gonna finish that?_

"A man," he says. "A Sentinel, with his helmet off."

**Tell me what he looks like.**

The image is fuzzy around the edges, the outline indistinct. 

"He's--tall, I think. Short hair."

**His face?**

"He has one, yes."

**Ze _lo_.**

Maybe he smiles at Youngjae's peeved tone. He feels body-less, like a floating consciousness, though he knows his body is still there on the cot in the medbay, remembers the reality of Youngjae seated across from him holding the humming stick he'd used to help put Zelo under. He even remembers Youngjae's look of surprise as it began to work. 

His focus wavers, the image of the man going indistinct. 

**His face, Zelo.**

Right. He tries to see it, tries to _describe_ it.

"He's--he looks normal. He could be anyone."

Zelo thinks the man has kind eyes, but this is unquantifiable, just instinct, so he doesn't say so. 

_Are you gonna finish that?_

**What's he doing?**

"He's...eating. He's finished. I'm eating too, or--I'm supposed to be." He finds he can look down, sees for the first time the memory of his own food, its watery, clumpy consistency. "I don't want to eat it, it's so gross." A surge of excitement--this is new. He finds he can glance around at the others surrounding them, though no one else comes into focus. He can just make out their steady, mechanical movements as they eat, the raising and lowering of spoons to mouths. Everyone's food is gross but only Zelo has noticed.

**What do you do?**

_Are you gonna finish that?_

Zelo looks down again, sees his memory-hand reach out--weird--and push his bowl across the table. Hears his own memory-voice, dry-humored: _Please, save me_. 

The man across from him starts--for a second looks honestly stunned--then laughs. It's short and silent. The man glances around them and Zelo does the same, this time spying the red blurs of NRA guards at the door. The man slides his own empty bowl across to Zelo and then sets to work polishing off his dinner.

"There are guards watching us," Zelo says. This feels important. "We're supposed to be NRA guards, but there are human guards guarding _us_."

**Is anyone else talking?**

"No. The room is quiet. It doesn't seem like anyone heard us, not even the people right around us."

**But you heard _him_.**

Zelo frowns, maybe. It's strange not to have a face. "I heard him," he agrees. 

**What happens next?**

"He eats my food."

**And then?**

The man finishes just as everyone stands up around them. The man stands up. Zelo stands up too. The man looks at him and there's something both calculating and hopeful in his expression. Zelo's getting better at identifying feelings. It feels like an accomplishment. 

_See you tomorrow,_ the man says, and disappears under his helmet.

Zelo opened his eyes--his real eyes, a wrenching sensation as he pulled himself out of the memory. He was getting better at this. 

"He said _see you tomorrow_ ," he told Youngjae urgently. "Tomorrow, so--did we see each other again? Did we talk?"

The medic shrugged. "Did you?"

Zelo tried to retrieve the thread of memory, but it had slipped from him. "I don't know," he said in frustration. "I don't remember any more."

"Yet," Youngjae said bracingly. "We're getting further every time; you didn't remember saying anything last time."

"I shouldn't have been _able_ to say anything," Zelo said. He glanced past Youngjae to see Yongguk leaning in the doorway. He entered the room properly when their eyes met, coming to stand with a hand on Youngjae's shoulder. "My inhibitor should have kept me from hearing him, same as everyone else around us. It definitely should have kept me from answering. No wonder he looked surprised."

"He looked surprised?" Yongguk repeated thoughtfully. 

"So like...say his inhibitor was damaged somehow. He was self aware," Youngjae said, picking up the captain's thought. The crew did this a lot. "Maybe he asks the same thing at every meal, never getting an answer, never really expecting one. Then he happens to sit across from you and for the first time, he gets a response."

"So he would have wanted to find you again," Yongguk continued, not missing a beat. "He would have wanted to talk to you. We need to figure out if he ever did."

It made sense, but Zelo's mind felt blank. "I don't know if he did," he said. "Shouldn't I know?"

"Not necessarily," Youngjae said. "The hypnosis is working, though. It doesn't even seem like it's driving you crazy so far."

He meant to be encouraging, but Zelo scowled. "It's too slow," he said. "At this rate it'll be months before I figure out how the hell I wound up in that warehouse."

Youngjae blinked. "Zelo, you just cursed," he said. "I think we've been a bad influence on you."

"Great, something else to worry about," Zelo griped. Impatience was a burning ember in his chest. He thought he understood now why humans complained when they were frustrated. They had to do _something_ with this feeling.

Youngjae laughed and put a hand on his shoulder, gripping it hard. 

"This is fine, okay? This is good news, we're making progress," he said firmly. 

Zelo found himself oddly aware of their proximity. Youngjae had always been the most natural with him, but recently he'd taken to touching him more, just a hand on his arm or shoulder like right now, or slapping his back the way he did with the others when he made a joke. Probably he was just trying to get Zelo used to normal human contact. It seemed to be working; Zelo no longer flinched every time. He found himself almost craving it. Strange; he hadn't realized you could long for touch the way you longed for water when you were thirsty. 

"Yes," he said, because Youngjae seemed to be waiting for a response. The medic gave his shoulder a final squeeze and turned to Yongguk. Zelo had to stop his own hand from rising to the spot Youngjae's had just vacated as if he could somehow capture the warmth of it there.

"It's something," Youngjae told the captain with a shrug. Yongguk shrugged back agreeably. 

"Progress is good," he said. 

He looked tired. In what Zelo was discovering was his common practice, Yongguk had barely slept after his shift working in the salvage yard where Cheonsa had docked several days earlier. The crew had taken a vote, settling on the salvage job as their best option out of everything Yongguk had found. It was a legit operation, legal, but small and on the outskirts of populated space, unlikely to draw attention from the NRA, who everyone was keen to avoid. 

"What time's our next shift?" Youngjae asked. They were taking it in turns; currently Himchan, Jongup and Daehyun were all working. 

"Not til the others come back," Yongguk said. 

"You ought to lie down or something," Youngjae told him. "If you don't mind me saying so, you look terrible."

"Why would I mind that?" Yongguk asked dryly.

"What about me?" Zelo spoke up. Yongguk gave him a questioning look. "Should I work when Youngjae does?" 

So far he'd remained on Cheonsa while the others worked. But when he wasn't making progress with his memories, he felt anxious and tense, his questions eating at him. Physical labor sounded more appealing.

Yongguk and Youngjae exchanged a glance. "I think it's best if you stay on the ship," Yongguk said. 

"I can help," Zelo insisted. "I can cover these--" he motioned to the cannon hook-ups on his arms. The other men exchanged another glance. Youngjae shrugged, but Yongguk still hesitated. 

"It's dangerous. If someone figures out who you are--"

" _I_ don't even know who I am," Zelo pointed out. 

"I doubt anyone would know what they were looking at even if they saw them," Youngjae spoke up. "No one knows the Sentinels are human."

"Most people don't," Yongguk corrected. "If someone says something to the wrong person and word gets around..."

But even Zelo could see he was wavering. 

"I'm a good worker," he insisted. "I'd like to help."

"I'll stick close to him," Youngjae added. "And now that his medical papers are done it'll take like two minutes to doctor up a work permit." He smiled at Zelo. "I've heard great things about Song Geunsoo's work ethic."

Zelo couldn't help pulling a face at his pseudonym. He'd been relieved when none of the crew tried _calling_ him Geunsoo; that was for his identification papers only. He'd be Zelo until he knew his real name, if that ever happened.

Yongguk hesitated just one more beat, then nodded. "When the others come back, then," he said.

*

Everything hurt. 

Jongup had thought he stayed in decent shape aboard Cheonsa, but he'd forgotten how much energy it took hauling salvage. He wouldn't be able to lift his arms over his head tomorrow. 

Beside him, Daehyun let out a groan. 

"Why did we ever volunteer for this?" he gasped as they lifted a heavy piece of panel between them. The metal dug sharply into Jongup's shoulder and he gritted his teeth against the pain. 

"I mean--we are--getting paid," he panted as they went. 

"Not enough." 

They were quiet as they lugged the panel over to the rest of the metal scraps, then gave twin sighs of relief as they put it down. 

Daehyun swiped an arm across his forehead and Jongup marveled at his ability to do the work in long sleeves. The salvage yard was oven-hot. Jongup would take off his _skin_ if he could. 

"One more?" he suggested. The pilot let out something close to a whimper and Jongup relented. "Take a rest, then, I'll just grab a small one. Shift's almost done anyway." He turned to go but Daehyun's voice halted him. 

"You think if you haul enough salvage we'll all just forget you worked with the Jackdaws?"

Jongup paused, his heart steadily sinking until it was at his knees. 

Daehyun had been quieter than usual with him in the past week, but not unfriendly. Jongup had begun to think they weren't going to talk about it, had hoped things would slowly improve until maybe someday they'd be back to the way they'd been. 

But apparently not.

He turned to find the pilot watching him through narrowed eyes. 

"I don't expect you to forget anything," Jongup said. 

"Well, good," Daehyun said. "Because it's not happening. So you might as well just act normal and not try so hard. You're making me look bad here." He gave him a half smile and Jongup's heart made a hopeful leap to somewhere around his midsection. 

"Sorry," he said after a pause. He returned to Daehyun's side and sat beside him on the metal panel. Daehyun gave a small satisfied nod. 

It was true that Jongup had maybe been trying a bit too hard lately. After he finally ventured out of Himchan's room, he made himself useful--in the engine room, in the kitchen, helping Zelo finish inventory for Youngjae, and for the past few days taking the longest shifts at the salvage yard. They were paid by the weight of recovered parts, so the more he moved, the more credit Cheonsa earned. He hadn't thought about it too hard, but he supposed he was maybe trying to earn back some favor with the others in the process.

He looked around the salvage yard. Straight ahead were the hulking remains of several ships. He recognized an outdated NRA freighter, and what he thought might have been a former farm ship.

Behind him lay an organized mess of parts: reusable metal separated out by type to be melted down; circuitry that could be rewired; intact panels that could be sold whole. There were a few dozen other workers spread out around them, some working in pairs or teams, others making a slow solitary dent in the work. 

As Jongup watched, a trio of hazmat-suited workers exited the farm ship carrying a large power cell between them. They deposited it carefully among the other radioactive pieces, then two of them returned to the ship and the third stepped through the decontamination chamber. 

On the other side, the worker unzipped his mask, heading towards Jongup and Daehyun. It was Himchan. 

He looked exhausted and sweaty and Jongup scowled. He'd tried to talk him out of working the core--he had his doubts about the quality of the salvage yard's safety procedures--but Himchan had insisted, pointing out it was the fastest way to earn the best credit. Of course, he hadn't let any of the others join him. 

"How's it going?" he said. 

"Shift's just about finished. You ready to go back?" Daehyun said. But Himchan shook his head. 

"We've got more to do in there," he said. "I'm gonna stay for a few more hours."

"Himchan, no," Jongup objected. "You've already done nine hours, you look ready to drop. Come back with us."

It was the wrong thing to say. Himchan's spine straightened and he frowned. Daehyun was looking between them with great interest. Non-Bang-Yongguk-people didn't generally tell Himchan what to do. 

"I've had worse," he said shortly. "You two head back to Cheonsa; I'll be along later."

Jongup wanted to pull him back, but he didn't want to argue in front of Daehyun, and in any case Himchan turned and stalked away before he had the chance. 

"Stubborn!" Daehyun called after him, then turned to Jongup. "C'mon, let's get out of here. I need a bath, like, _yesterday_."

With one last look at Himchan's retreating form, Jongup followed.

*

Yongguk, Youngjae and Zelo were in the hangar bay when they boarded Cheonsa, suiting up for their own shift at the yard. 

"Oh God, this is going to be _terrible_ ," Youngjae observed, scanning Jongup and Daehyun's haggard forms. "You guys look even worse than yesterday."

"Where's Himchan?" Yongguk said. 

"Idiot signed on for the super radioactive stuff; he's staying for awhile," Daehyun explained. Yongguk frowned and his eyes flickered to Jongup, but he didn't say anything. 

Of the crew, Jongup was the least sure of where he stood now with the captain. On the surface, things had reverted to normal: Jongup had been included in the vote to decide on their next job, Yongguk still looked to him for any engineering questions and had been perfectly civil. But they had always shared an ease together, had always had some unspoken comfort with each other, and that had very much disappeared. Jongup wasn't sure how to get it back, or if that were even possible. The captain felt closed-off to him now.

Yongguk and Daehyun were talking in low voices, Daehyun clearly complaining about the work in his usual good-natured way while Yongguk tried not to laugh at him too obviously. Zelo came over to Jongup.

He was wearing a thin long-sleeved t-shirt of Daehyun's that barely reached his wrists to cover his cannons--not much of a disguise, but Jongup knew everyone working the salvage yard would be far more concerned with their own fatigue and workload than with anyone working around them. It should be fine. 

"When Himchan gets back, will you ask him to check the ph of the new soil I mixed?" Zelo asked. Jongup blinked up at him, nonplussed. 

"What?"

"He recommended I add lime to prevent clubroot," Zelo said. "I wanted to make sure I got the percentage right."

He might as well have been speaking another language. Jongup stared at him. 

"Wh--how would Himchan know that?" he said, bewildered. Zelo tilted his head, clearly confused by Jongup's confusion. 

"He grew up on a farm; he seems very knowledgable about--" he began, but then Youngjae was there, clapping him on the shoulder. 

"Time for work!" he said. He waved to Jongup, who just stared blankly as the three left. Daehyun wandered off, mumbling about _a shower to end all showers_. 

Farm?

Himchan?

...What?

Zelo must have had it wrong--except that wasn't really a thing. Zelo may have had memory issues, but so far he'd demonstrated perfect recall of everything that had happened on Cheonsa. Which apparently included talking to Himchan about _farming_ , and Himchan had told him--Zelo, a former Sentinel--more than he'd ever told Jongup. 

So much for their new closeness or whatever. 

Jongup tried not to let it bother him, but it ate at him as he showered and then ran through a few routine engine checks. 

There was _so much_ he still didn't know about Himchan. Early on they'd drawn a line in front of the past, and they'd never crossed it. Well, Jongup had stumbled over it a week ago and they all knew about his awful childhood now. But Himchan hadn't revealed any of his own--at least, not to Jongup. 

Coupled with his clear dislike of Jongup's concern over his work habits, Jongup wasn't sure where that left them. Sure, they spent entire nights together now and Himchan had accepted his past and even admitted to feelings. But maybe Jongup was overreaching and the commander didn't think of them as _together_ any more now than he ever had. Maybe he'd decided he couldn't trust Jongup enough for that.

He finished engine checks and returned to his bunk, stretching out in his own bed for the first time in a week. His body was exhausted but his mind wouldn't stop stewing. It was over an hour before he finally drifted into thin, troubled sleep.

*

He woke, disoriented, some time later to the sound of his door shutting with a clang. He blinked into the not-quite-darkness to find Himchan, wet-haired from a recent shower, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, stumbling around the unfamiliar space until he found Jongup's bunk and climbed in beside him. Jongup moved back instinctively to make space.

"Thought you'd be in my bunk," Himchan said with a yawn, stretching out. "I suppose this works too. Go back to sleep."

Jongup stared at him, warmth flooding his chest. "What are you doing here?"

Himchan blinked at him. "Sleeping?" he ventured. His expression went still. "Or should I go?"

Jongup hesitated, his hurt from earlier catching his voice in his throat. Himchan stiffened and began to climb out of the bed. 

"Right. Sorry," he said, but Jongup snapped back into himself and grabbed his arm, holding him in place. 

"Zelo was looking for you," he said. "He wanted you to check the...something...of his new soil whatever. He said you'd know if he did it right since you grew up on a farm and everything." He tried to keep the accusation out of his voice and didn't quite succeed. 

He was aware this was unfair, that he couldn't very well throw stones after keeping his own past a secret for so long. But that Himchan had chosen _Zelo_ of all people to confide in...well, that stung.

Himchan went still. 

"Oh," he said finally.

_What the hell,_ Jongup didn't say. He made himself take a measured breath.

"How come Zelo knows more about you than I do?" he asked instead. Himchan winced, then lay flat again, staring at the ceiling. 

"He doesn't. It's just one thing, and not even an important one," he said tonelessly.

"Bullshit."

Himchan's eyes met his. "Listen," he said, but then he didn't say anything. Jongup was fairly patient as a rule, but he couldn't help fidgeting as he waited for the other man to speak. Finally, Himchan let out a sigh and rolled out of bed, pulling his arm from Jongup's grasp. Without a word, he left the room.

Jongup stared after him, heart plummeting. He shouldn't have pushed him. Himchan was chatty but private. He wasn't one to talk about himself if he didn't have to. Jongup _knew_ that. He'd been stupid to think whatever they were doing meant he had special privileges now or something. 

He debated going after him to apologize. Debated going back to sleep--he was still exhausted--but knew his mind was in too much turmoil for that. He lay back on his bed, thoughts roiling, cursing himself and this stupid horrible week-day-hour and--

Himchan was back suddenly. Jongup sat up with a start, staring, wondering if he was about to chew him out. Instead, he handed him a thick envelope. Jongup took it and gave him a questioning look, but Himchan didn't say anything, just crossed his arms over his chest. He was frowning slightly. 

Jongup turned his attention to the envelope. It was sealed. 

"You can open it."

He did, carefully. Inside was a short stack of photographs, bonded together with a rubber band gone brittle with age. It crumbled and broke as Jongup went to take it off. He barely noticed, staring at the top picture. 

It was of Himchan, but Himchan like Jongup had never seen him. He estimated his age to be somewhere around 16. He was gangly, all sharp angles, still growing into himself. His hair was long enough he'd pulled it into a ponytail. He was grinning with his whole _face_ ; there was a dimple under his eye that Jongup had never seen before. 

He stood with a man, a woman and a girl, and Jongup could see the family resemblance at a glance. He scanned each of them in turn, his throat going oddly tight as he looked at Himchan's parents and sister for the first time. He'd known they were all gone; Himchan had mentioned it in a cursory way early on. But putting faces to the shadowy idea of Himchan's dead family made it real in a way that nothing else could have. 

His sister had been pretty, her smile somewhat less goofy than Himchan's. Jongup saw in his parents a smattering of familiar features, his chin in his father's face, his eyes in his mother's.

He glanced up at Himchan, who was staring at the floor. 

"What was her name?" he asked quietly. "Your sister?"

"Hana." Himchan's voice was very low. 

Jongup looked at the picture again, mouthing Hana's name to himself as he looked at her. It occurred to him that this was a kind of gift, Himchan showing him this. He held out a hand to him and after a breath, Himchan took it, let Jongup pull him down to sit beside him on the bed.

Jongup went to the next picture and smiled. In the first, the family had been simply posed, standing together. In the second, Himchan's father had Hana on his back in a piggyback and Himchan was doing the same for his mother, half doubled over in laughter. 

Jongup looked at Himchan again. He had his knees drawn up to his chest and was studying his hands. 

"You don't have to talk about it," Jongup said, echoing his words from the week before. "But you can, you know."

Himchan nodded, not looking over. "I guess I never saw the point," he said quietly. "Everyone has their own version of the same shit story. You start to tell them and just see the way their eyes glaze over and they start thinking about everyone _they_ lost, and they don't really hear you at all, so why bother saying it?"

He looked at Jongup for the first time, something mildly pleading in his gaze. Jongup nodded his understanding. His own story wasn't exactly universal, but he could imagine the deflating feeling of expressing his personal tragedy only to receive a distant-eyed nod and a weary _me too_. 

"Yeah," he said quietly. "But I promise I'm a good listener."

Himchan nodded and he looked down at the photo in Jongup's hand. 

"I haven't looked at those since--I don't know. It's been years," he said. Jongup set the laughing picture carefully on Himchan's knee and looked at the next. 

"This was your farm?" he guessed. Golden fields stretched out, dotted with white bubble-like greenhouses. 

"Mm hm." Himchan slouched down, burrowing tighter against Jongup's side to see the picture. "We grew vegetables for our town but these--" He touched the tip of his ring finger to several of the bubbles, "were all flowers."

"You grew flowers?" Jongup couldn't contain his surprise and he gave Himchan an assessing look. What had he told him once about what he wanted from life? _Anything as long as I get to shoot people_? Jongup had always found something incongruous about Himchan the soldier. He was a good shot, that was true, and calm and clear-headed in a crisis. But there had always been a softness to him, too, an innate urge to take care of those around him. Jongup found it easier to picture him surrounded by flowers than fallen enemies.

"Hard to imagine something so frivolous now," Himchan said.

Jongup thought back to his childhood on Yonsei station, his hazy memories of playing under the table while his mother talked to her fellow teachers, not just about engineering but philosophy and art and everything in between--all the things inessential to survival that seemed so...well, _frivolous_ now. Everything had been different before the war.

He looked through the rest of the pictures slowly, taking his time, endlessly fascinated by the small glimpses into Himchan's past. The last showed him in one of the greenhouses, hands plunged deep into a pot of soil as he worked. His face was serene in a  way Jongup now knew didn't even happen while he was asleep. He was surrounded by the riotous color of flowers, fiery red-orange here, rich purple there, speckles of bright yellow throughout, a shock of pink in the corner. 

Jongup couldn't look away. "Can I--" he began, then hesitated. 

"What?"

"Can I keep this one?" He chanced a look Himchan's way. The older man looked startled for a beat, a blush dusting his cheeks. He nodded. 

"If you want."

Jongup set it on the overturned crate that served as his bedside table. Surrounded by the blacks and grays of his room, the colors in the picture seemed to spill over the edges, brightening up the world for several centimeters around it. 

Himchan was watching him, a small thoughtful furrow between his eyebrows. His eyes flickered between Jongup and the picture and back again. 

"I'm not sure I actually know how to do this," he said abruptly. "Be with someone for real. The last time I was--I mean, I was a _kid_ , it wasn't--like this." He motioned between them. Jongup considered.

"I have even less experience with this than you," he pointed out. Himchan frowned. 

"Is this a competition? Which of us is worse at real relationships?"

"No," Jongup said, laughing a little at the other man's peeved tone. "I already know you'd win that one."

Himchan gave him a little shove but his expression relaxed. "Whatever, I'll make a great boyfr--whatever we want to call it. Not boyfriend; we're not fifteen."

"Thanks for clarifying."

Jongup set the rest of the photos next to the flower picture, thinking he'd keep all of them if he could, if he didn't think it would hurt Himchan to see them. He pulled him down beside him and they stretched out on the bunk, facing each other. 

Jongup's eyes traced Himchan's face, falling on the spot where the elusive eye dimple was hidden. He wondered if it would ever appear again. He was pretty sure his heart would stop if it did. Er, in a good way.

"You probably shouldn't get mad at me for telling you not to work too hard. You do that to me all the time," he said. Himchan winced. 

"Okay, fair. Maybe," he conceded. 

"And stop telling Zelo personal shit before you've even told me."

Himchan blinked. "Have you always been this demanding? Where has this Jongup been the past two years?"

"I didn't think I was allowed before."

It felt like a big thing to admit, that he'd wanted this far longer than he'd let on. Himchan shifted, pillowing his head on his arm, studying Jongup. 

"You know it's gonna be a lot of work," he said. "Keeping me in line."

Jongup snorted. "Tell me something I don't know."

Himchan smiled--no eye dimple, but Jongup thought maybe he caught a glimpse of it for just a heartbeat. On an impulse, he pushed himself up to kiss him slowly, deeply. Himchan's hand went to his jaw to hold him in place and for a long breath they just tasted each other. Jongup still wasn't used to having _time_ , to kissing Himchan with no particular goal in mind. He liked thinking that he'd have the chance to _get_ used to it.

Mid-kiss, Himchan suddenly yawned. Jongup collapsed onto his shoulder, laughing. 

"Oh my god." Himchan covered his face with one hand, giggling. "I'm so sorry."

"Forget it," Jongup said, turning his back on him and drawing Himchan's arm across his chest. "Go to sleep." He felt Himchan's breath on his neck as he pressed firmly against Jongup's back. 

"Bossy," he murmured, but for once, he didn't argue.

*

Zelo worked as steadily as--well, a robot. Youngjae couldn't help giving him a slightly baleful glare as they set down a panel between the three of them. Even Yongguk was panting, but Zelo was barely even winded. 

"You could _pretend_ this is hard work," Youngjae complained in a low voice, sidling over to him. Zelo looked at him with some surprise. 

"It does require exertion," he said a bit stiffly. Youngjae had noticed that after their hypnosis sessions--each of which seemed to leave Zelo a bit more human than before--he would then temporarily revert back to his technical robot-speak, as if over-compensating for a lapse in concentration. It would be hours before he relaxed and sounded like himself again.

Youngjae hadn't mentioned this observation aloud, knowing it would earn him a wide-eyed stare, some rapid blinking and the assertion _I don't even know who myself_ is.

Bullshit, in his opinion. Zelo was more and more himself each day. Youngjae didn't blame him for being freaked out by this. 

He blamed him for his continued super-strength, though.

"Here--" Yongguk was there--had he left? Youngjae hadn't noticed--with water suddenly, holding out bottles to each of them. Youngjae took his gratefully and drank deep, eyeing Zelo over the top. Zelo's eyebrow twitched in response as he drank. The sleeve of his shirt slipped as he lifted his arm, revealing the edge of his cannon hook-up. Yongguk shifted slightly in an effort to shield him from the rest of the yard. Youngjae glanced around at the workers nearby while trying not to look like he was. Zelo lowered his arm hastily.

"We need to get you some clothes that _fit_ ," Yongguk said.

*

A short way across the yard, the woman turned away from the trio, and the tall man with the implants on his arms. Now _that_ , she thought, was interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year :)


	10. Chapter 10

Himchan woke up with the uneasy feeling that he'd dreamt about the day his mother died.

The details were fleeting, skittering away from him when his eyes blinked open to take in the dull gray wall next to Jongup's bunk. But there was a lingering tightness in his chest and his cheeks were wet. His father's voice played on a loop in his ears: _She's gone. Everything's gone._

Himchan swiped at his cheeks angrily. This shit right here was exactly why he didn't like pouring out his life's story to people. His brain tended to get a hold of the memories and rifle through them, holding each awful moment up for him to obsess over. 

_Snaking columns of smoke rising from each greenhouse. An NRA security ship lifting off in the distance. And his father's voice, again and again: She's gone. Everything's gone._

Himchan rolled over, careful not to jostle Jongup. He'd learned by now that the younger man was a deep, peaceful sleeper. This was good. Himchan suspected if he were prone to nightmares, they'd be fucking terrible. 

He allowed the sight of him to push the memories away. Jongup was soft in sleep, dark hair fluffy against the pillow, brow smooth, lips parted slightly. Himchan resisted the urge to needlessly brush his hair off his forehead, to trace a finger over his features, reassure himself of the other man's solidity. Jongup was real, somehow, and he was here.

Himchan's gaze caught on the picture Jongup had set beside the bed. He couldn't make out the details in the near-dark, but he remembered very well how Jongup's face had looked when he saw it. 

Hell. If he didn't get out of this bed now, he was going to kiss him awake, and that would be mean, considering the long day ahead of them. 

Instead, he propped himself up on his wrists and vaulted slowly over the mechanic to get out of bed. He froze for a breath when Jongup shifted, instinctively reaching for Himchan's warmth, before settling into the space he had vacated with a small satisfied sleep sound.

(Himchan would _not_ coo over how cute he was; he would _not.)_

As always he'd shed half his clothes in his sleep; he retrieved his sweats from the blankets and tugged them back on before leaving the room, careful not to let the door slam shut behind him. 

He wanted to go to the garden, wanted the mineral scent of soil in his nostrils. 

He went to the kitchen instead. Coffee would make that stupid urge go away. 

Daehyun was at the table with both hands wrapped around a steaming mug, his eyes half-closed. Himchan bypassed him to get his own cup. Daehyun didn't seem to notice his presence until he pulled out the chair across from him with a metallic scrape. The pilot jumped. 

"Oh--g'morning."

"How come you're awake already?" Himchan asked. It wasn't unusual for Daehyun to be the first one up and about, but when Cheonsa was docked, he often slept late.

"How come you are?" he countered. Himchan shrugged. Daehyun shrugged back. "So, you and Jongup," he said abruptly. Himchan took a sip of coffee and waited for a verb. Daehyun seemed to be searching for one. "You're...like together, yeah? Like for real, like we can all stop pretending we didn't notice?"

Himchan winced. Okay, maybe it had been stupid to think they could keep things between them a secret on so small a ship. It was embarrassing to imagine that while he and Jongup had been sneaking around for two years, the others had been rolling their eyes behind their backs.

But all he said was, "Sure."

Daehyun nodded. "Well that's good. I think that's good."

"That's truly a load off my mind, Dae."

The pilot kicked him. "Don't be an asshole when I'm being nice to you."

"Is _that_ what you're doing."

Daehyun nodded solemnly and turned his attention back to his coffee, gazing into his mug with a small frown. Himchan tilted his head, studying him. Time and work had done Daehyun good; he'd certainly seemed to be back to his usual self the past few days. But Himchan had been preoccupied with Jongup, and now he wondered if the pilot hadn't been as fine as he looked on the surface, and Himchan simply hadn't noticed. 

"You okay?" he asked. Daehyun gave a small start and nodded, but his eyes remained troubled. Himchan raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Why are you lying?"

"I'm not, I just." Daehyun looked away. Himchan let him find his words, sipping his coffee and waiting. It was so _quiet_ when Cheonsa was docked. He missed the faint hum of the engine that he could usually feel through his feet, the occasional clank from the engine room as Jongup worked. Nothing would ever beat open space for him.

"You're just...?" he prompted when enough time had passed he wasn't sure Daehyun would speak again after all. The pilot sighed and slouched. 

"Everything's changing," he muttered. He wouldn't look at Himchan. "Everything with Jongup, and...and Zelo, and."

Himchan should have guessed. Daehyun was one of the most sensitive in the group. He had shown no outward hostility to Zelo or Jongup, but it had been a mistake to assume this meant he was unaffected by everything that had happened. Himchan searched for something to say.

"I thought you liked Zelo. He's your little kitchen helper." 

"It's not about _liking_ him, I just--forget it." Daehyun scowled. Himchan nodded, trying again.

"I do get what you mean," he said carefully. "I'm just kind of--I mean, some of it's a good change for me, so..."

Daehyun glanced at him, a smirk ghosting his lips. "Is it really that different? Not to burst your bubble but I know you guy's've been a thing for, like, ever."

Himchan thought again of Jongup the night before, looking carefully through the pictures of his family, of his new assertiveness with Himchan. Of sleeping beside him even when they were too tired for sex. 

"It's different," he said simply. 

Daehyun nodded. "I wish he'd just told us in the first place," he said. "All this would have been easier."

Himchan had thought the same thing enough times over the past two years. Maybe he and Jongup could have been _real_ so much sooner if this secret hadn't been between them the whole time. 

But there was exactly zero reason to think about that now, so he didn't. 

"Maybe easy's overrated," he said.

"That's so mature. What's happened to you?" Daehyun asked. Himchan looked around for something to throw at him. Before he found anything, something occurred to him. 

"Something occurs to me," he announced.

"What's that?" Yongguk's voice from the doorway made him jump. Daehyun brightened as the captain joined them, his ever-present leather jacket pulled on right over his pajamas. He looked exhausted and Himchan frowned, rising to pour him a cup of coffee as Yongguk crashed onto the seat beside Daehyun. 

"Did you sleep?" the pilot asked him quietly.

"Did _you_?" the captain shot back. 

"Drink this," Himchan said, handing the mug to Yongguk. The captain accepted it with a small smile. Things between them had been slowly returning to normal all week, a welcome development. Fighting with Yongguk made Himchan feel the wrong size for his own skin. 

"What occurs to you?" Yongguk repeated. 

Himchan perched on his seat. "We all need to unwind," he said. "Let's face it, it's been a crazy couple of weeks. We should get off this ship and have some _fun_."

"Fun," Yongguk repeated, his expression betraying mild confusion at the idea. Himchan fought the urge to roll his eyes, or flick his friend. Captain. Whatever.

"Yes, Bbang, _fun_ ," he said. 

"We could check out the canteen," Daehyun spoke up. "I'm sure it's a dive, but." He shrugged. Himchan brightened. There wasn't a station, shipyard or outpost in the galaxy that didn't have its own bar. Often, the crew chose to do their drinking on Cheonsa--cheaper, more comfortable--unless they were docked at one of the major hubs. But this time, Himchan thought the change of scenery would do them all good.

"Perfect," he declared. "Tonight, after our shifts?"

"Everyone?" Yongguk said. "Even...?" 

_Even Zelo_ , Himchan understood. He shrugged. "If he wants to," he said.

*

"I don't think that's a good idea," Zelo said. 

Daehyun wilted visibly. 

"Oh," he said. He looked so disappointed it made Zelo's chest feel uncomfortable. 

"I'm not sure I should be somewhere so--unpredictable," he hurried to explain. He wasn't sure if he was being overly cautious--he'd worked the salvage yard without incident--but the idea of going to a bar, with alcohol, and possibly drinking some, being around strangers...well. It didn't sound like a good idea.

"It would be bonding time, though," Daehyun said. 

Zelo glanced nervously at Youngjae, who was rifling through a supply cabinet and pretending not to listen for some reason. 

"Bonding time?"

"Yeah, like--a chance for you to get to know us all better. And for us to get to know you. And to have some fun. And drink some drinks. But only if you want to, like that part's not a requirement or anything."

Zelo hesitated. Youngjae sighed from across the medbay.

"Maybe he's right, Dae. These places can get rough."

"You never want to come out drinking with us," Daehyun complained. Youngjae rolled his eyes. 

"You all get stupid when you drink. I'd rather contain it to the ship."

Daehyun gave an outraged gasp. "Did you just call the captain _stupid_?"

Youngjae ignored this and smiled at Zelo. "I'll hang out with you here if you don't want to go."

Zelo's chest felt uncomfortable again, but now it was a weirdly nice kind of uncomfortable.

"You can't _both_ not go!" Daehyun protested. 

"Dae," Youngjae practically growled. The two glared at each other for a beat. There was much bulging of eyes and threatening eyebrow twitching.

The pilot caved first. "What if we pregame here, all six of us? Then we'll go and you two can stay here and be _boring_."

"Great," Youngjae said. "And you four can go out and get stupid. It's a deal." He winked at Zelo, who relaxed. He wasn't incurious about alcohol, or opposed to--what had Daehyun called it?--bonding with the crew. 

This had already been happening gradually. Himchan had warmed to him considerably and Zelo no longer tensed in his presence. The captain was quiet but kind, Daehyun was noisy but kind. Jongup was something of a cipher, but Zelo knew he wasn't the only one who thought so. He thought Youngjae might be an actual friend. 

"Fine," Daehyun said. "Shots all around!" He darted out of the medbay. Youngjae frowned after him, then at Zelo.

"This might be a mistake," he said.

*

There was a back-breaking day of work, and then they were supposed to have _fun_. Yongguk wasn't sure how he got talked into these things. 

Except when he thought about it, it made sense. There had been fractures in the crew, a change in its configuration, all over the course of a few weeks. They needed a chance to heal, to know they were still a family even when they weren't reacting to some crisis or danger. 

He accepted a cup from a smiling Daehyun and sent a bit of silent gratitude Himchan's way for coming up with the idea. Daehyun may have been triggered by the NRA assholes, but it hadn't helped him to have so much tension among the group. He might bicker endlessly with Youngjae and Himchan, but Yongguk knew there was no one more dedicated to their crew than Daehyun, and the pilot wouldn't feel truly better until things were settled between them.

They were all gathered in the mess. Jongup was fiddling with the sound system, picking music. Avoiding the others, maybe. Yongguk needed to talk to him, try to clear the air. He still wasn't sure how to reconcile the man he knew with the things he now knew he'd done. But Himchan had been right about that, too: they'd all done awful things in the war. 

Himchan and Youngjae were sitting on the table, talking. Every so often Youngjae would take a sip of Himchan's drink and pull a face, and Himchan would laugh. Daehyun joined them, no doubt attracted by the laughter. Zelo stood off to one side, peering into the cup the pilot had pressed on him. 

Yongguk sidled over to him. 

"Rotgut," he said, and nodded to the cup when Zelo gave him a questioning look. "We brew it ourselves." It was worse than the good whiskey Yongguk kept hidden away, but they had _lots_ of it.

"It smells like," Zelo began, and stopped, looking deeply concerned. Yongguk suppressed a grin. 

"It hasn't killed anyone yet," he said. Zelo lifted his cup and took a cautious sip, then choked and coughed, barely managing to swallow. 

"Oh _no_ ," he gasped, and Yongguk broke and cracked up at the expression on his face.

"Yeah, we haven't figured out how to make it taste less like poison," he admitted, taking a sip of his own and grimacing. 

"It'll put hair on your chest," Himchan said from across the room. Youngjae was shaking his head, his cheeks already pink. Youngjae felt alcohol the quickest, which was probably why he drank it the least.

"You don't have to finish that, Zelo," he said. But Zelo was blinking down at his cup with a sort of horrified fascination. He took another sip, gasped, and pounded his chest with one fist. Then he lowered the cup.

"I like it," he said calmly.

There was laughter and applause from Himchan and Daehyun, and music began to blare from the speakers. Jongup straightened up, stuffing his hands in his pockets, smiling uncertainly, and something went sharp in Yongguk's throat. He clapped Zelo's shoulder and went over to the mechanic. 

"Have a drink," he said quietly. Jongup accepted his cup, his gaze flitting to Himchan for a beat. Yongguk sensed his anxiety and hated himself a little bit. 

"Thanks." Jongup was the best of all of them at drinking rotgut; there was no choking or pained expressions from him. He could have been drinking water. Yongguk wracked his mind for something innocuous to say. 

"Youngjae hooked you up with anti-radiation meds?" he said finally. 

Jongup had somehow talked Himchan into letting him join him for the high-risk radiation work that day. The two had returned to Cheonsa with dark circles under their eyes and Youngjae had taken one look and hauled them both to the medbay. They looked considerably better now after showers and a meal, but Yongguk vowed not to let them work the shifts again tomorrow, no matter how much better the pay.

"Yeah, we're good," Jongup said. He took another sip of his drink. His posture was perfectly relaxed, but Yongguk spotted the tell-tale shifting from foot to foot that betrayed the younger man's discomfort. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Himchan go still--watching Jongup, ready to intervene if--what? Yongguk took a swing at him?

He needed to fix this. 

"Game," Yongguk announced abruptly, motioning Jongup to the table and waving for Zelo to join them. "Let's play a game."

Himchan was looking at him a bit suspiciously--he wasn't generally the first to suggest a drinking game, although he never shied away when the others did.

"Image game!" Daehyun declared immediately. Jongup went to Himchan's side and sat on the table, their thighs flush against each other. Youngjae grumbled but kicked out chairs for Yongguk, Daehyun and Zelo. They sat in a kind of circle with the three still perched on the table while Daehyun explained the rules to Zelo.

"We take turns making statements about someone in the group-- _this person is the biggest lightweight_ , that kind of thing, and then we all point to who we think it describes. Whoever gets the most points has to drink, so like that one would be Youngjae."

The medic kicked at him but couldn't quite reach.

"But since Youngjae _knows_ we'd all pick him, if he's fast enough to make a cross with his arms like this," Himchan added, demonstrating, "then everyone pointing at him has to drink. So that'd be Daehyun."

Daehyun kicked at him but couldn't quite reach. 

"It's a good game for you to get to know us because if you guess wrong you won't have to drink. You can mostly just see what we say about each other," Yongguk told Zelo quietly, searching his face for any signs of discomfort. He wasn't sure bonding with former Sentinels was the same as bonding with anyone else. But then, Youngjae hadn't been doing anything special as far as he could see, and he'd gotten the furthest in terms of befriending Zelo. Maybe just acting normal was the way to go.

Zelo was nodding agreeably enough. More drinks were poured so they each had their own. Everyone looked at Yongguk expectantly. He thought for a beat.

"This person is the best cook," he said.

Himchan was quick, getting a cross up as Youngjae, Jongup and Yongguk pointed to him. Daehyun, smirking, pointed at Zelo. Zelo's finger hovered in the air uncertainly. 

"Drink!" Himchan told his accusers gleefully.

Daehyun was next. "This person," he said, staring around at each of the crew in turn. "is the best listener."

Yongguk flushed a little as Jongup, Youngjae and Daehyun pointed to him. Zelo pointed to Youngjae. Himchan pointed to Jongup. Yongguk took a drink. 

On they went.

Youngjae: _This person is the biggest flirt._ Daehyun, laughing too hard, wasn't fast enough to get a cross up. He drank.

Himchan: _This person has the worst temper_. It backfired on him as everyone, including Zelo, chose him. He continued to point stubbornly at Youngjae as he drank.

Jongup: _This person is funniest when they don't get enough sleep._ Anarchy: he and Himchan chose each other, Youngjae and Daehyun chose each other, Yongguk shrugged and chose Zelo, who blinked and looked longingly at his cup, forgetting to point at anyone.

Then it was his turn.

Zelo looked around at them carefully.

"This person has the most secrets," he said.

For a beat, no one moved. Jongup stiffened in his seat, expression going blank. Yongguk saw Himchan press his leg more firmly against his. 

Yongguk pointed at Zelo, and after a second, everyone followed suit, including Zelo. He smiled then, that dimple appearing like magic. 

"I just wanted to drink," he explained, taking another sip and shuddering at the taste. 

The game moved on. 

They all drank, even Youngjae (voted both "bossiest" in a near tie with Himchan and "cutest" quite handily, although he chose Zelo, who actually blushed, which was interesting). More and more good natured arguing broke out, Daehyun bursting into giggles so often he was nearly incoherent. Yongguk thought his heart might burst at the sight of his crew acting like friends again. Jongup wound up practically in Himchan's lap, his legs slung across his thighs. Youngjae's feet were propped on Daehyun's knees, and while the pilot kept pretending to try to shake him off, he clearly didn't mean it. 

"This is nice."

Yongguk started and looked at Zelo, who was watching everyone with a strange look on his face. Yongguk thought he looked both curious and longing. 

"It's a good crew," he said. Zelo nodded, eyes flicking from one member to the next.

"You don't act like a crew," he said. "I've never--" And he stopped, blinking, and finished his drink. 

*

When Daehyun fell out of his chair, Youngjae declared an end to the game.

"Great," the pilot said, somewhat blearily from the floor. "Now we can go to the _bar_!"

Himchan and Jongup let out a cheer, Jongup raising both arms in the air triumphantly. Youngjae rolled his eyes. 

"You're all idiots. Drink some _water_ ," he said. His eyes were glassy; Yongguk didn't remember the last time he'd seen him drink so much. He glanced at Zelo, who was doing remarkably well considering he'd possibly never had a drink before. He did have a faint smile on his face, though; Yongguk wondered if this was the Sentinel equivalent of rolling around the floor giggling, as Daehyun was currently doing.

"Do you want to stay here?" Yongguk asked him. Zelo nodded. 

"I'll look after Youngjae," he said. "He seems a bit...wobbly."

Youngjae was, in fact, a paragon of dignified sobriety next to the others Himchan was currently attempting to use Daehyun, still on the floor, as a foot rest, and Jongup was giving Himchan a look so nakedly...um, we'll call it _affectionate_...that Yongguk had to look away fast.

But honestly, another drink sounded just fine to him.

"Okay, then," he said. He hauled Daehyun to his feet and motioned to Himchan and Jongup. "You guys coming?"

*

Himchan wasn't as drunk as he looked, thank you very much. He'd always been good at the image game, mainly because he had an abundance of self-awareness. He knew how the others saw him and he knew how to get his arms into an X before they could point.

Mostly.

He and Jongup trailed behind Yongguk and Daehyun's wavering forms on the way to the canteen. The walkway was quiet this time of night, the canteen being the only destination on such a relatively small station. Daehyun's voice rose to fill the space and Himchan winced as it pierced his brain. But at least the pilot seemed to be feeling better, no doubt helped by the light pressure of Yongguk's hand at his back, steering him just enough so he didn't wander into any walls along the way.

"Hey, c'mon--" Suddenly Jongup's hand was in his, tugging insistently. He dragged Himchan over to a small door in the middle of the hallway. Himchan studied it dubiously.

"Are we _authorized personnel only?"_ he asked.

Jongup let go of his hand to fiddle with the lock mechanism, which answered that question. He paused long enough to smirk back at Himchan, and-- _oh_ , that smirk unfurled something low in Himchan's belly. 

"Trust me," Jongup said. 

"I do." Himchan cast a glance down the hall at Yongguk and Daehyun, who'd carried on without them. They'd be fine, easy to catch up with once they finished with whatever detour was on Jongup's mind.

The door gave a reluctant clank as the lock let go, and Jongup pushed it open, grinning. 

"C'mon." He grabbed Himchan's hand. This was still new, Jongup's touchiness. Himchan wondered if he'd always wanted to do this and held himself back, unsure what Himchan's reaction would be. He didn't hesitate now, pulling Himchan inside of wherever-the-hell they were. 

It was dim but not dark, the passage lit by the warm glow of safety lights. The air hummed with machinery. Jongup led Himchan through a twist of halls until they came upon the main attraction, the station's engine room. 

It was many stories high, far larger than Cheonsa's, the glowing engine vastly sophisticated even to Himchan's untrained eye. They came out on a ledge five or six stories up. When he peered over the edge, he could see a few engineers at work on the ground below.

"How'd you even know how to get here?" he asked Jongup, who was looking very pleased with himself.

"I just guessed from the layout of the station," he said. The red-orange bulbs lighting the ledge cast his face into warm relief and sharp shadows and Himchan was struck anew by how handsome he was. 

"So, what? You just felt like picking up an extra shift?" he teased, and Jongup smiled, finding his hand again and pulling him in. 

"Nah. Just--wanted to go somewhere with you."

This was, Himchan realized, the Moon Jongup version of an impromptu date--or maybe just of finding a picturesque spot to make out for a while. He almost laughed.

"Well, here we are," he said. "What do you want to do with me?"

Jongup's smile didn't widen so much as _deepen_ as he moved in closer, chest pressing firmly against Himchan's. "I have some ideas," he said.

*

"Water," Zelo announced, waving the cup in front of Youngjae's face until the medic reared back and grabbed it out of his hand. 

"I'm _fine_ ," he said grumpily, then spilled half of it down his front as he drank.

"I can see that."

"Oh, shut up. Who was it taught you about sarcasm, was it Channie? I'll excommunicate him."

"I may have learned a thing or two from you, too."

"Hmph." The medic looked both cross and pleased somehow, pursing his lips at Zelo and flapping his wet t-shirt away from his chest. It was cute.

It was...cute?

Huh.

Youngjae waved a hand in front of Zelo's face. 

"Don't zone out on me now or I'll have no one to hang out with," he complained. Zelo found himself smiling. 

"I'm right here."

"I can see that. You're so _tall_ ," Youngjae said with a kind of irritated wonder. 

"Did you know that of all the crew, you're the one who most often expresses two emotions at once?" Zelo asked. It felt very important to say this out loud. It also felt very warm in here. He began to shed his sweater, which was a struggle for some reason. "My motor skills are compromised," he observed from within the depths of the garment, arms caught in the sleeves and above his head somehow.

He heard laughter, then Youngjae was helping to free him from the shirt, leaving him blessedly cool in a t-shirt.

"Welcome to drunk-land," he said.

"I'm not drunk," Zelo said automatically. "My blood alcohol level is well within the legal limit for any space station in the system."

"You're a drunk drunkard, admit it," Youngjae said. "It's your first time, right?"

"How would I know?"

"Good point." 

They sat on the table with a pitcher of water and some leftover noodles. 

"So you can tell your own blood alcohol level?" Youngjae asked. He was sitting cross-legged facing Zelo, and somehow Zelo knew that if Himchan had been there he would have scolded him for putting his feet on the table. 

He tried to focus on the question. His reaction time was slowed by seven percent.

"Yes. Can't you?"

" _Ugh_ , you're so--smug with your--brain and your--stupid height, ugh."

He was drunker than Zelo had realized.

"Why did you drink so much when you don't like it?" he asked. And, "Water," he added, refilling the cup and pressing it on the medic. Youngjae accepted it, but distractedly. He was still staring at Zelo. It was making his face feel warm. Or was that another effect of the alcohol?

"It isn't that I don't like drinking," Youngjae said. He was enunciating with great care, each syllable crisp and clear. "It's that I don't like _drunk_. Ing. Being drunk. This part. Right now. Not my favorite." He made a displeased scrunch face and Zelo smiled. 

"Noodles," he suggested, pushing the leftovers to the medic. But Youngjae ignored them in favor of more staring. 

"You can tell your own _al_ cohol blood level," he repeated. "That's so cool. How do you do that?"

"I have a medical implant that sends me information. It calculates and records everything, sleep intake, radiation levels, that kind of thing."

"Is it freaking out now that you're a boozehound?"

Zelo wasn't entirely sure what a boozehound was, but he was reasonably certain it was bad. And also unlikely.

"It only _freaks out_ if I'm in danger," he said. "If my heart beat gets too fast, if I'm exposed to toxins. A few drinks isn't really enough to--what?" He broke off because Youngjae somehow turned his stare up a few notches, his posture going rigid. "What's the matter?"

"Zelo," Youngjae said.

"Youngjae," Zelo said.

"It calculates and _records_ your medical information," Youngjae said. Zelo understood immediately.

"I can't access the old data, only current information," he said. But Youngjae shook his head.

"If the implant records it, there must be a reason. They must have intended for someone to be able to collect the information. It didn't transmit somewhere automatically?"

Zelo's fingers went to the back of the neck. A phantom pain shot down his spine and he frowned as some--thing--tried to worm its way to the front of his memory.

"Maintenance?" he mumbled, mostly to himself. "They--I don't know." _A flash of white light. A metal gurney, cold against his chest. A sharp pain at the back of his neck._

Youngjae was watching him, the bleary look gone from his eyes, expectation in its place. 

"I don't _remember_ ," Zelo snapped in frustration. "There's something but--" He shook his head.

"Zelo, _something_? Is _amazing_. You get that, right? A few days ago there was nothing but things are starting to come back to you now. I didn't even have to put you under." He reached for him abruptly and Zelo froze as the medic's hand went to his neck, reaching behind, probing the spot Zelo's fingers had just left. "You think it's here? The implant?"

His fingers were warm and very gentle. Zelo had to swallow hard before he could answer.

"I think maybe."

"I do feel something under the skin," Youngjae murmured. He withdrew his hand. "If I could take it out, I bet Jongup could access the data. If that thing really records everything, it could tell us a lot, like when you got to that warehouse and how long you were there. Maybe even more than that."

Zelo nodded, although the idea sent a twist of anxiety through him. The crew accepted him as _Zelo_ now. The more he learned about who he'd been before, the greater the odds they would find something they didn't like. 

The greater the odds _he_ would learn something he didn't like. 

But knowing was surely better than not-knowing. Right?

"Okay," he said finally, and narrowed his eyes at the medic. "But not until you're sober."

"What? No drunk surgery?" Youngjae protested, and laughed. He twirled a few million noodles onto his fork and offered it to Zelo. "Deal."

*

"We don't need them anyway!" Daehyun declared loudly. Yongguk bellowed in agreement. Somehow, somewhere, they had lost Himchan and Jongup. If Yongguk hadn't seen the way they were mooning at each other all night, he might have worried. But it seemed safest not to think about what they were up to.

He and Daehyun had found the canteen, which turned out to be nicer than he would have guessed. At least the drinks were. Yongguk drank so much rotgut on Cheonsa that he forgot sometimes that alcohol could taste _good_.

"This is nice," Daehyun said. "This was nice. All of us just--hanging out. Nice." His face was flushed but content as he gazed around the bar. Yongguk just watched him, smiling a little, pleased to see him so relaxed after weeks of tension. 

"Nice," he agreed.

"Cheonsa's so good, isn't she?" Daehyun continued. "When we're on her we can all just...forget everything else. Everything before. Zelo, Jonguppie, doesn't matter what they did before, you know? On Cheonsa they're _good,_ we're all...good."

Some part of Yongguk was trying to tell him that just maybe forgetting everything wasn't the healthiest coping strategy. But mostly he could see the appeal. 

He lifted his glass. "To forgetting!" he said. Daehyun brightened and lifted his own.

"Forget--oops, sorry--" He laughed apologetically as he bumped the man behind him at the bar. The man turned, scowling. A scar ran down his cheek, making him look even angrier. 

"Is this them?" he asked. Yongguk blinked at the non sequitur, then turned to see who the man was addressing: a woman, vaguely familiar, who had come up behind him. Yongguk thought she might have been working near them the past few days. She motioned to him. 

"Definitely this one," she said. "The other one...maybe."

Disquiet needled through Yongguk's alcoholic haze as he realized he hadn't brought a gun. That had been stupid. He glanced at Daehyun to see he, too, had gone serious, glancing between the man and the woman. 

"Do we know you?" Yongguk said. 

The man smiled. "Not yet." He pulled something from his pocket. Yongguk had just enough time to think, _well, fuck_. Then there was a bright flash and everything went dark.


	11. Chapter 11

Yongguk woke up and immediately wished he hadn't. His skull ached as sharply as if someone had taken a hammer to it. He'd forgotten how much he hated stunners; he'd prefer a hit from a good old-fashioned blaster any day. His entire body was an agony of pins and needles as he took in his surroundings.

There wasn't much to see. Smooth gray walls and ceiling, the door nothing but an outline, its hinges and lock on the outside. The only furniture was a single bunk set into the wall a short ways from a toilet and sink in the opposite corner. 

He jerked up in alarm as he belatedly registered the thrum of an engine through the floor. They were on a ship, and they were moving. 

A second thrill of fear followed as he spotted Daehyun's prone form a meter away, before he marked the steady rise and fall of his chest. So this was bad, clearly, but at least they were alive and at least they were together.

Yongguk hated to wake him to pain, but he didn't know how long they'd be left alone. He scooted across the floor, wincing at the feel of--anything--against his burning skin. He shook Daehyun by the shoulder. 

"Dae."

Nothing. Once more, a little harder. 

" _Dae_."

"Mmfgh _ow_ ," the pilot muttered, eyes slitting open to glare up at Yongguk. "Ow," he repeated, one hand lifting to his head. "Fuck, _ow_."

"Pretty much." 

Daehyun pushed himself up and peered around the small room. In a heartbeat he seemed to contract, shrinking into himself. 

"Oh," he said in a low voice. Yongguk went to grasp his shoulder, then stopped himself. The contact would just hurt both of them right now. 

"We're gonna get out of this," he said. Daehyun nodded quickly, fixing his eyes on Yongguk's face.

"Where d'you think we're going?" he said. So he'd felt the engine running, too.

"Nowhere good," Yongguk said. He pushed himself to his feet, testing his strength, which was...not great. His knees didn't want to lock; it took great concentration to stay upright. He stamped his feet a few times, gingerly, trying to shake off the painful numbness still suffusing his body.

"Did you recognize them?" Daehyun asked. He pulled his knees up to his chest and stared determinedly at his knees. 

"Not the guy who stunned me, but the woman was working near us yesterday," Yongguk said. He pictured her eyes, the cool grey that signified ocular enhancement and the only reason he'd noticed her at all. He hadn't thought she was paying any special attention to them in the salvage yard, but clearly he'd missed something.

"D'you think this is about Zelo? Did anything happen?" Daehyun pressed.

"Like what? Did his Sentinel armor grow back in the middle of the yard?" Yongguk snapped. Then, immediately contrite, "Sorry. No. I don't know. I didn't think anything did, but the timing of this feels...ominous."

He never should have let Zelo work with them. They should have kept him on the ship. Fuck, he should have--

The door clanked open behind them. The man from the canteen, the man with the scar, entered the cell stunner-first. 

"Sit down," he told Yongguk. 

Eyes on the weapon, Yongguk sat beside Daehyun, who'd swiveled to see the newcomer.

"You are in the custody of Sector Security," the man said, and Yongguk's stomach dropped. 

Each sector of populated space was rife with the so-called "security." They worked for anyone with enough credit to their name, little better than bounty hunters and just as unscrupulous. The NRA had allowed them to flourish, and why not? Sector Security did much of their dirty work and were easy to pay off.

"Why?" Yongguk demanded. The SS wouldn't want them unless they thought they were worth something in exchange. He felt a sudden surge of hope--maybe they were going to be ransomed back to their own crew. It was a common enough SS tactic to take a few people from a ship and make their people pay to get them back. He didn't want to deplete Cheonsa's credits for something so stupid, but he'd prefer it to any of the other possibilities running through his imagination.

"Well. You were _reported_ on suspicion of working without disclosing physical enhancements," the man began, glancing down at a padd in one hand. Yongguk and Daehyun exchanged a swift look. Physical enhancements--this could only mean Zelo. The woman must have spotted his implants, or the unnatural ease with which he worked. Technically you _were_ supposed to report such things on your work permit, but it was more of a guideline for liability purposes and Yongguk had never seen it strictly enforced.

"That's not illegal," he said. "And neither of us _has_ any--"

"I can see that. It's a bullshit charge, I know," the man agreed. "She was just hoping to earn a few credits. But we're required to give a hearing to all informants, so."

Yongguk wanted to laugh--bitterly--at this. _Required_ , as though SS were nothing but beleaguered bureaucrats rather than thugs and opportunists.

"This is more than just _giving a hearing_ to an informant," Daehyun pointed out. 

"Yeah, well in the course of my due diligence, I found something real on you guys," the man said, shrugging. "Just your bad luck. Your ship had a run-in with an NRA security freighter last week. Managed to give them the slip when they were set upon by a Jackdaw freighter that, as it turned out, didn't actually exist..."

Yongguk fought the urge to glance at Daehyun again, but inside he was cursing. He'd hoped Thing One and Thing Two would be too embarrassed to report the encounter. 

As if reading his thoughts, their captor smiled. His scar was a cruel crease down his cheek. "You must've really pissed them off," he said. "Not a good idea, I'm afraid. But we'll let the NRA decide if they want to press charges and round up the rest of your crew."

All the oxygen was sucked out of the room. Yongguk looked at Daehyun, who'd gone horribly white and still. 

Yongguk didn't want to ask. 

"You're taking us to--"

"The nearest NRA outpost, yeah," Scarface said absently, still reading whatever was on his padd. If his grip on his stunner had been a bit less assured, Yongguk would have rushed him, lingering pain from the first hit be damned. But he knew if tried he'd be stunned before he could get his feet under him. 

The man looked at them again, lowering his padd. 

"Not to worry," he said . "If you're lucky, you'll just spend a few months cooling your heels in one of their detention centers. I hear they're nice."

Yongguk could feel Daehyun blanch. This was his literal nightmare. He thought quickly.

"We have a good supply of credits if you turn back."

Scarface smiled. "Not as many as the NRA, I'm betting. 'Sides, I already called it in. So just sit tight; won't be long now." He backed out of the cell and the door clanged shut. 

Yongguk swiveled to Daehyun. The pilot's eyes were squeezed shut. He pressed his face to his knees, his breaths coming in short ragged bursts. Yongguk winced, wishing for Youngjae, who had always been the best at talking Daehyun through his rare panic attacks. 

But fuck it; Yongguk could do this. He rubbed light circles on Daehyun's back. 

"Breathe, Dae. I'll get you out of this, I swear." _Somehow._

Daehyun just nodded against his knees. He was clutching his calves so hard his knuckles had gone white. 

"I'm fine," he said, muffled. Yongguk wished he could see his face.

No, scratch that, he wished he hadn't been so catastrophically stupid and none of this had happened. 

"Our best bet will be when they transfer us to the detention center," he said quietly. "We can try to--"

"There's no _best bet_." Daehyun's voice sounded hollow. "By the time we get there it'll be too late. We try to make a run for it or overpower a guard, they'll shoot us. We're already done." His toneless words gave Yongguk a chill. He didn't hear so much as a spark of the pilot's usual fire. 

"Okay," he said gently. "I believe you, but you're forgetting something."

Daehyun turned to look at him dully. "What."

Yongguk tried to smile. "Cheonsa," he said.

* 

Zelo had never seen Youngjae afraid before. It took him 2.6 seconds to realize he hated it.

The medic had gone pale as he spoke to a frantic Jongup over the radio, pacing the mess as he did, hands twisting together. Zelo wanted to pull him into a chair and possibly sit on him--an illogical impulse. But somehow he felt that the pressure of his body could help calm Youngjae's heartbeat, which Zelo's medical reader told him was hammering away at an alarming rate. 

He stayed still, stayed out of his way, listened to the conversation.

The captain and pilot had been taken--arrested. There didn't seem to be any information as to _why;_ they were already gone when the others reached the canteen.

Himchan's voice joined Jongup's on the radio. The warmth Zelo had grown accustomed to hearing in it was gone, the commander's words clipped and furious sounding. 

_"We're coming home. Be ready to leave."_ He disconnected before Youngjae could ask any questions. 

The medic stood frozen for a beat, turned away from Zelo, who took a few steps until he could see his profile. Youngjae's eyes were downturned, his face pale.

"You know Sector Security?" he asked abruptly, not looking at Zelo.

"I know _of_ them," Zelo said. "The NRA uses them. They bring in criminals sometimes, or...or dissidents. NRA pays them off." The thought brought with it a  surge of sharp dislike, though he wasn't sure if it was meant for his former 

_(owners)_

bosses or for the bounty hunters. 

He had a sudden flash in his mind's eye: two men, one in a gray, patched uniform, the other in the crisp red of the NRA. They shook hands before the man in gray turned on his heel and left. The NRA officer wiped his hand on his pant leg, his expression turning to revulsion as he watched him go. 

_Kind of makes you want to shower, doesn't he?_ he asked, looking at--looking at _Zelo._ Then shaking his head, smiling ruefully. _I guess you'll just have to take my word on that one, Z-2._

A memory. 

A _memory_ , a real one, his own. He opened his mouth to tell Youngjae, but a distant metallic clank heralded Jongup and Himchan's return. Youngjae straightened and strode past Zelo and was almost to the door, but the others appeared before he could get there.

Himchan looked more forbidding than Zelo had ever seen him. Jongup just looked upset. 

"What the _hell_ happened? Where were you?" Youngjae demanded. Jongup winced. Himchan ignored Youngjae completely, looking at Zelo.

"I'm sure I already know the answer, but you can't do some sort of scan for Yongguk and Daehyun, can you? See whether they're still on the base?" he said. It was Zelo's turn to wince. 

"I can't search for them specifically. I'm sorry."

Himchan just nodded, unsurprised. Zelo spotted a fresh, faint bruise under his jaw and frowned, about to ask, then-- _oh,_ a glance at Jongup--understood. 

"Whoever has them would get off this base as quickly as possible," Himchan said. "They know we'll come after them."

"Maybe they'll be looking for ransom pay?" Youngjae said hopefully. "Maybe they're still here..."

Himchan shook his head. "Yeah, maybe we tear this station apart looking for them and in the meantime any heat sigs will fade, along with our chances of ever finding them again. Come on."

He didn't wait. They followed him into the 'pit. It looked unnatural without Daehyun at the helm, and Zelo felt a sudden fierce wave of worry for the missing crew. 

Himchan sat at the helm, hands moving across the controls. He didn't have Daehyun's grace, but he was _fast_. 

"Three ships left the station in the last half hour," he murmured. "This trail looks like one of the station's own salvage ships, I think, so that leaves two."

Youngjae pressed against his shoulder, peering at the readout. "Any way of telling which one's more likely?"

Himchan made a small frustrated sound.

"I might be able to help," Zelo realized. They turned, Youngjae brightening. Himchan slipped from the seat and Zelo took his place, hesitating for a beat over the unfamiliar controls before he got his bearings. 

He studied the trails Himchan had found. The heat sigs were already fading. It would prove difficult to extrapolate a course with so little information, especially if he tried to track both at once. 

_Think, Zelo_. 

He'd seen Sector Security before; if his memory was to be trusted, he'd met them personally at least once. If they had some kind of marker that could be detected in their heat sig, the information had to be stored in his stupid head somewhere.

He shifted through the different sensor modes. 

"Fast, isn't he?" he heard Youngjae mutter behind him, but for once he hardly registered the medic's voice. There was something to find here, he was sure of it. Something.

Something.

Some--

He stopped, fingers a few centimeters above the scanner. The pattern of gamma radiation in one of the heat signatures had the hackles on the back of his neck raising to attention. 

He thought this might be what humans would call _a hunch_ , except it was more than that, it _had_ to be.

"It's this one," he said, pointing. He felt the press of bodies to his back. 

"Are you sure?" Youngjae asked quietly. 

Not so long ago, Zelo wouldn't have understood the question. He wouldn't have said it if he wasn't sure. 

Now, he hesitated. This was too important for guesses, but he couldn't lock down any more of his memory. Other than the short exchange with the NRA officer, the details stayed stubbornly blurred. 

But they were _there_ somewhere, practically screaming at him that it was _this one, this one, this one_. He studied the scanner again for a long beat--painfully long, 5.3 _seconds._

_This one, this one, this one._

If he was wrong, they would lose the other heat sig and never find it again. But the longer they waited, the less likely they'd be able to catch up with either ship. He turned to the others.

"I'm sure. That's an SS ship."

Himchan narrowed his eyes, studying him. After a beat he nodded once, apparently satisfied.

"That still doesn't tell us where they'd _go_ ," Youngjae pointed out, and Zelo's relief vanished. He could feel Youngjae's tension almost as clearly as if it were his own. 

(Was this what it felt like when the crew did their telepathy thing? If he tried to talk to them now without speaking, would they understand him? Would he understand _them_?)

(Right, focus; these experiments were best tabled for later.)

He turned back to the console. 

"Extrapolating possible courses," he said, then added apologetically, "There are a lot of variables. This may take some time."

He heard Himchan sigh, but Youngjae squeezed his shoulder briefly. 

"Thanks, Z."

The NRA soldier _: You'll just have to take my word on that, Z-2._

He shook the memory away, accidentally dislodging Youngjae's hand in the process. The medic didn't reach for him again. Zelo suppressed the urge to apologize. He needed to concentrate.

And he did, with 93 percent of his attention, which left just enough to take in the hushed conversation going on behind him.

"This is all assuming they aren't still here," Youngjae muttered. 

"If the SS wanted a payout from us, they could have left a message in the canteen," Jongup pointed out. "They aren't exactly known for playing it cool."

"Right. So is this the part where you two fess up about why you weren't with them?" Youngjae's voice was sharp and Zelo felt his own shoulders tense in response. Himchan didn't rise to the bait.

"It's been ages since we've run into these assholes. But you're right, I should've been checking for something like this--"

"Not your fault," Jongup said softly. Himchan just scoffed.

"Extrapolation completed," Zelo spoke up. "I have the six most likely courses they would take."

"What? Already?" Youngjae said. "I thought you said it would take a while."

"It did," Zelo said, turning to look at him. "Nearly two minutes; I'm sorry for the delay."

Youngjae gave him an exasperated look but Himchan returned to see. Zelo moved to give him the seat and the commander took it with a murmured thanks, never taking his eyes off the readout. Zelo retreated to stand with Jongup and Youngjae.

"Isn't _extrapolation_ just a fancy word for _guess_?" Youngjae asked quietly. 

"You have a better idea?" Jongup's eyes were fixed on Himchan's back. "Anyway, a Security ship isn't just wandering aimlessly through space; they're going _somewhere_."

Himchan swore. Jongup and Youngjae were back at his side in an instant, Zelo a half step behind. 

"What are we looking at?" Youngjae demanded.

"I think I know where they're headed."

Jongup touched Himchan's back. "Isn't that a good thing?" His thumb brushed the base of Himchan's neck and Zelo saw him flinch. Jongup drew his hand back, looking hurt. Zelo looked away, certain he wasn't supposed to see that. 

"Uh--" Himchan stammered for a moment before recovering his voice. "I--have a bad feeling they're going here." His finger rested on the readout for a beat and Youngjae echoed his earlier curse, along with some choice embellishments.

"An NRA outpost," Jongup said flatly.

Himchan slumped back in his seat and swiveled around so he could see everyone. For a beat, Zelo saw pure defeat in his expression, before he covered it up. 

"NRA's a good customer for Sector Security," he said. 

"Dae can't go to one of their prisons again," Youngjae said, still staring at the readout as if willing it to change. "He can't go through that again."

Himchan was rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. "We can't intercept them before they get there. We won't make it in time."

"So we'll have to get them out once they're on the base," Youngjae insisted. "We're not just _leaving_ them there!"

Himchan glanced up and touched his hand lightly. "Of course not. Calm down, Jae, I'm just thinking."

Beside him, Jongup leaned over the readout to examine it more closely. 

"It's a pretty big outpost," he said. "They're bound to be well-fortified. Cheonsa won't be a match."

"Not for a fight," Himchan agreed thoughtfully. He looked at Zelo and raised his eyebrows. "What do you think?"

What did he think? What he _felt_ was something akin to dread at the idea of being back within the NRA's reach. They'd shut his _mind_ down, suppressed his memories. He wouldn't go back now. For a long beat (almost four seconds), he considered simply refusing to help. Jongup was right, there was no way their tiny ship and crew could be a match for an NRA station.

Then he thought of Yongguk asking how he'd slept, granting him responsibility for the garden. Of Daehyun, showing him how to make omelettes. Giving him socks, teasing him.

The NRA couldn't have them.

"Infiltration has a greater probability of success than force," he said. In unison, the other three straightened. 

"Have you been to this outpost?" Himchan said. 

"If not this one then several with a similar design," Zelo said. "I can get us inside."

Himchan nodded once and swiveled around again, plotting a course. 

"We go," he said.

*

Daehyun was spiralling. 

He could feel the engine rumbling, knew they were moving, yet he felt frozen, as though the NRA outpost was the one hurtling towards _him_ like some deadly behemoth, ready to swallow him whole.

The scar on his arm burned.

He made himself look at his captain. Yongguk was here, this was _different_ , their friends would come for them.

But breathing hurt. There was already a vise on his chest, compressing his lungs, and he feared it would only get worse when they reached the outpost. They'd be separated then, and who knew if he'd see Yongguk again. 

_Don't think about that._

He thought about Youngjae instead. More than anything else, he'd been what pulled Daehyun back to himself after he was released from prison. He'd treated him like a _person_ , not merely a tool to be used in the war. His visits had recalled to Daehyun his sense of humor and his ability to give a shit about, well, anything.

He hoped Youngjae remembered how he'd done it, because Daehyun had a hunch he was going to need him again.

_Don't think about that._

He thought about Himchan. He could be a pain in the ass, but he was the most loyal person Daehyun knew, and he was probably already working on a plan to get them back. 

Of course, knowing him, the plan would wind up being dangerous and there was a good chance he'd get himself killed. 

_Don't think about that._

He couldn't stop thinking about it. Images flashed through his mind: a tiny cell, blank walls, food being pushed through a flap in the door.

Yongguk in shackles, bloodied after a beating Daehyun would be powerless to stop.

His friends--Himchan, Youngjae, Jonguppie, even Zelo--dead in a careless pile as NRA soldiers stepped over their bodies without a second glance.

_Don't_

_think_

"Want to talk about it?"

Yongguk's voice jolted him out of his utter failure to stop his own brain. He was watching Daehyun with concern, and shrugged when their eyes met. "I think we have some time to kill," he continued. "And you know you've never really...told me about...what happened to you. Before."

Daehyun shifted uneasily. 

"I don't know what there is to say." 

Yongguk was seated against one wall, hands folded neatly in his lap. He looked so calm that for a second Daehyun had the urge to shake him, to ask if he had any idea what they were probably in for.

He pushed the sudden rage down with the ease built of years of practice. He wasn't angry at Yongguk, who wasn't as calm as he looked anyway.

Besides, if he wanted the captain to know what they were in for, he could just tell him.

He let out a breath, focusing his gaze on Yongguk's hands, which he'd always found strangely elegant. He tried to speak, but he hadn't been lying--he'd never known how to talk about this, had never known what to say about his time in prison. Maybe if this had been some peaceful catharsis, opening up to one of his best friends. Maybe if he wasn't heading straight back into the nightmare.

"They'll split us up," he said abruptly. "I don't know what happened to the crew that was arrested with me. I never found them when I got out; I guess they all died."

He'd looked for them, but not right away. Not until months on the medical freighter, not until after he'd met Youngjae. Not until he could close his eyes without claustrophobia making bile rise in his throat.

Daehyun liked talking. Himchan always told him (in his affectionately uncomplimentary way) that he was good at it. But he didn't have the right words for this. How could he explain to Yongguk how unreal his own _life_ had felt while he was locked up, as though it had all been some fantasy?  That for months at the end of his incarceration, he'd come to believe he'd even dreamt up the stars? The creeping doubt after so long in solitary had been the worst, and the NRA had done their best to help it along.

"They'll try to tell you I talked, that I--confessed to whatever charges they bring. I won't. They just want you to admit to something."

"Mind games," Yongguk said. Daehyun nodded. 

"They love those. They'll probably tell us all kinds of shit about Cheonsa, say they picked her up and have the rest of the crew." 

They were always so plausible, their lies. Hell, Daehyun still didn't know if they all _had_ been lies. Maybe he and his crew hadn't been attacking an NRA military base, as their captain had told them. Maybe they really had been murdering NRA civilians. Daehyun had never had the courage to find out.

That doubt, man. It could really keep a guy up nights.

Yongguk was frowning. "That makes sense. So we don't believe them unless they know--specifics."

_Unless they know about Zelo_ , Daehyun heard. He nodded. If the NRA found out about Zelo, he doubted there would be any internment; it'd be interrogation and execution in quick order. Maybe that would be best.

_Don't think that way._ Youngjae's voice was sharp in his ears. Mind. 

Right. Too early to be giving up. Daehyun sat up a little straighter, trying to will his heartbeat to slow and his lungs to fill. 

_You've done this a million times, lungs, get your shit together._

Yongguk was looking at him worriedly. Daehyun tried to smile. 

"I'm okay, I swear," he said. 

"We'll get out of this, we always do," Yongguk said. Daehyun nodded, letting Youngjae, Himchan, and Jongup's faces flash through his mind. It would be different this time.

"We always do," he echoed.

*

Youngjae paced the length of the cockpit. It was too small a room to be really satisfying, the medbay was better for a really solid _pace_ , but he needed to be where things were happening and he wasn't sure he was done yelling at Himchan yet.

The commander was in Daehyun's seat and it looked wrong, though of course Himchan had flown Cheonsa countless times over the years. He'd sent Zelo to the mess to brew a pot of strong coffee for everyone. 

( _"Very strong,"_ Himchan had implored. _"The strongest. Don't stop adding coffee grounds until you get nervous.")_

"This is a terrible idea," Youngjae said. 

"How can you say that? We don't even know what we're doing yet."

" _Infiltrating an NRA--_ "

"Oh, that."

Himchan sounded unconcerned but Youngjae wasn't fooled. He was familiar with that dead-eyed stare he got when he was trying not to freak out. 

"So how _are_ we going to do this?" Youngjae pressed. Himchan's expression kept reminding him of the dead-eyed stare Daehyun used to sport constantly when they first met. He never wanted to see that look on his face again.

"When Zelo gets here with the coffee we'll talk about it."

Youngjae let out an impatient huff and kept walking. Jongup had gone to the engine room to see how hard they could push it, though of course that wasn't the only reason. Youngjae hadn't missed the tension that had cropped up between his friends since their return; Jongup had been only too eager to leave the cockpit and Himchan's presence.

"You're punishing him," Youngjae said. 

"What? Who?"

"Jongup. Whatever you're pissed at him for--"

Himchan swiveled around to stare at him. "I'm not pissed at him."

"You'd better tell _him_ that. He practically ran out of here."

Himchan sighed and turned away. "Whatever. You're the one who's pissed at _us_."

Youngjae opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. He _was_ pissed at them. They should have been there.

He was pissed at himself. _He_ should have been there. Like it really would have killed him to sit with his friends in the canteen and watch them get drunk and stupid?

"It wasn't your fault," he said finally, through lips that felt numb. But honestly, what good would it do them to point fingers at each other now? Himchan and Jongup must have wandered off to make out or something, judging from the faint hickey on Himchan's neck Youngjae was trying very hard to tell his brain he hadn't noticed. They'd been kissing and he'd been here with Zelo. It was all their fault and none of theirs.

"Okaaay," Himchan said in clear tones of humoring the crazy person. 

"Coffee," Zelo announced quietly, making Youngjae jump. He took the mug, unable to meet his eyes. 

"You're truly a blessing unto us all," Himchan said, accepting a cup. 

"Thank...you?"

"What are you thinking for this base? What can you tell us about it?"

Zelo leaned on the edge of the console, arms folded across his broad chest. Jongup slipped silently into the room. 

"We're lucky this is just an outpost and not a detention center," Zelo said. "We'll be able to dock without much trouble. Although I'm concerned about the ship that boarded us last week. They probably logged Cheonsa's information. In fact, I think it's likely that's what this is all about."

The same thought had occurred to Youngjae. It had been careless of them not to prepare for such a possibility. But at the same time, the thought was something of a relief. If Yongguk and Daehyun had been rounded up because some low-level NRA guys' noses were bent out of shape, that was better than anything that might have led back to Zelo.

"We could take the Albatross," Jongup spoke up. Himchan jerked in his seat, clearly not having heard him come in. But his expression showed relief when he saw the mechanic in the doorway, and Youngjae saw Jongup's shoulders relax slightly.

"That's a good idea," Himchan said. 

"The SS will be looking to the NRA for payment in exchange for the captain and Daehyun," Zelo went on. "If they provide it, they'll bring charges against them, at which point they'll transfer them to a detention facility. It would be best if we could intercept them before that happens."

"I'm guessing a prison break would up the difficulty level," Himchan said dryly. Zelo nodded. He seemed to be steeling himself for something.

"We'll be able to dock on the outpost," he said. "But the secured section where they'll take our friends will be highly guarded and it's unlikely we'll be able to get in undetected. "

Himchan slumped a little, looking resigned. Youngjae looked at Jongup, wondering if he was the only one who'd heard Zelo call them _our friends_. 

"However, there will be many Sentinels on the base," Zelo continued. "They have access to all areas and can move around unchecked."

His meaning hit Youngjae like a slap.

"No," he said immediately. Zelo just looked at him.

"My armor is intact."

Youngjae shook his head. He felt simple horror at this idea--they couldn't let Zelo back under the thumb of the NRA, not after everything he'd been through, not when he was so close to remembering everything. They couldn't lose him too.

Himchan was looking at him thoughtfully.

"You're not really considering this," Youngjae said. "If he gets--Zelo, if you get caught, they'll--wipe your mind again or something. Force you to tell them about us, and then we're all dead, and you too."

Zelo frowned. "I'd be careful."

"Youngjae's right," Himchan said after a long pause. "Even if there's only a small chance--what you are is important, Zelo. Not just for us, but--for _everything_. The fact that the Sentinels are human...it could bring the NRA down someday."

He'd clearly been thinking about this. Youngjae could just imagine him and Yongguk discussing it in hushed tones. Always the Matoki soldiers. Of course, they were right. Zelo could literally change the galaxy.

And hey, if that argument stopped him from walking willingly into the belly of the beast, Youngjae would agree with anything. 

"Exactly," he said, nodding vigorously.

"So what do we do instead?" Jongup said. They were all quiet, Himchan massaging his temple, Youngjae biting his nails before he could stop himself. Zelo was watching him with a furrowed brow as though he was some puzzle to be solved. Youngjae had learned by now not to fidget under his attention. 

"Well," Himchan said finally. "Zelo's right, that Sentinel armor is just lying there. It only makes sense that we use it."

"What did we _just_ say?" Youngjae demanded. Himchan looked at him grimly.

"The armor's there," he repeated. "I didn't say Zelo has to be the one inside it."


	12. Chapter 12

_Are you sure this is a good idea?_ Bbang asked. 

Himchan didn't dignify this with a response, first because of _course_ he wasn't sure, and second--crucially--because Yongguk wasn't really here. Himchan studiously ignored the Bbang-shaped shadow his tired mind had created. The coffee had clearly worn off.

"No. No _way_ , are you out of your mind?" Jongup demanded. 

_Our Jonguppie, always asking the pertinent questions,_ Bbang sighed fondly. Himchan ignored both of them, turning to Zelo.

"Is it possible? To put me in the suit without all the..." He gestured in a vague way meant to convey _implants_. Zelo seemed to understand, frowning thoughtfully. It occurred to Himchan this might be an offensive thing to even ask, akin to suggesting borrowing someone else's skin for the afternoon. But Zelo seemed unperturbed.

"You won't be able to fully interface with the armor," he said. "But yes, it will still be functional."

"That's one way to get through NRA security unnoticed," Youngjae muttered. He was seated on the table beside Zelo, elbows on his knees. He kept biting his nails and already had the thumb down to the bloody quick. Himchan's chest ached at the sight of the old anxious habit he'd thought the medic abandoned years ago. 

"Exactly. The place will be full of Sentinels," he said, shuddering inwardly at the thought. "One more will blend right in."

Jongup was shaking his head stubbornly. Well, Himchan had known he'd be a tough sell. If their positions were reversed, Himchan would probably barricade the door to keep Jongup right where he could see him.

_Aw, you two,_ Bbang said. Shadow Bbang was surprisingly sentimental.

"You can't wear the suit," Jongup said. "You're missing some pieces." He looked pointedly at Himchan's arms, and then at Zelo's, where his pushed-up sleeves revealed his cannon implants. 

"The cannons aren't necessary to the integrity of the suit," Zelo said, giving Himchan a break from Jongup's glare as the mechanic turned it on the former Sentinel instead. 

"He's not walking onto an NRA base without weapons," Jongup snapped. 

_Kid's got a point,_ Bbang said. And he did. One Sentinel among hundreds wouldn't attract attention, but the lone Sentinel carrying a battered blaster might. Himchan should have thought of that. Fuck, he was tired.

"I'm not suggesting it," Zelo told Jongup calmly. "I believe backup will be necessary." 

Beside him, Youngjae straightened, his expression lightening. "He's right," he said. "Even if you can get through unnoticed, you still need to get Dae and Yongguk back to Albatross. If they've been--hurt, or sedated or something--" His voice cracked slightly and he went silent. Zelo frowned at him and shifted slightly so their shoulders pressed together. 

_Uh?_ Bbang said, pointing, as though Himchan even had the mental capacity to ponder this development right now. 

"You're right," he said with a sigh. "This isn't a one-man job." He glanced at Jongup, saw his relief, wanted to curse. Maybe Himchan was a hypocrite, but he didn't want him anywhere near that station. But he wasn't sure there was a viable alternative.

"I should go," Zelo said unexpectedly. Everyone looked at him. 

"Um? That would defeat the whole purpose of putting Himchan in the suit," Youngjae said. But Zelo shook his head.

"The armor gives us some cover getting in, but that's only part of the equation. I still have greater knowledge of NRA protocol than any of you. I can give the commander instructions, and provide backup, should the need to fight arise. Even without the suit my strength and reflexes are enhanced. I'm the most logical choice."

Himchan studied him. It was easy to think him such an innocent, with those damn dimples and giant eyes. But Himchan had seen him work. He wasn't kidding about his enhanced strength. 

"It's not like anyone would recognize him," he said, warming reluctantly to the idea. 

In a way, they would have a double advantage, the suit giving Himchan extra protection and strength, and Zelo having them on his own. Two Sentinels for the price of one.

Youngjae was the one shaking his head now, scowling. "If you get caught--"

"We can split up if we have to," Zelo said. "And they wouldn't figure out who--what--I am immediately; the NRA doesn't expect to see a Sentinel out of their suit any more than anyone else does. I don't believe it's common knowledge even among their soldiers that we're human."

This made Youngjae stop, his frown turning thoughtful. "Why didn't you ever tell us that before?"

Zelo blinked at him, then his eyes slid away, his gaze turning distant. "I...didn't remember," he said. "But--we only removed our helmets in particular locations, with a certain set of officers around. I don't think anyone else knew about us."

_Well now,_ that's _interesting,_ Bbang said. Himchan agreed--but he found he cared less and less with each passing moment.

"I'm convinced," he said briskly. "Zelo comes with me. Anything that improves our odds. Youngjae will wait on Albatross in case there are any injuries."

"And me?" Jongup fixed him with a dark glare. Himchan knew his next words weren't likely to improve things, so he spoke plainly.

"You stay here."

"Like hell."

Himchan didn't flinch. "We can't all leave Cheonsa."

"She'll be cloaked."

"And if we forget where we parked?" Himchan grimaced at his own joke, too glib for the moment, and hastened to add, "If we have to get out of there in a hurry, if there's someone coming after us, Cheonsa _has_ to be ready to run. Someone has to stay here, Jongup-ah. Besides, you're the only one who knows how to use the cloak."

Jongup's glower had been darkening with every word and now he looked plainly furious.

"You flip a switch, hyung, there's not much to it."

"If there's a problem here, you're the best equipped to handle it," Himchan said. "I'm not leaving Cheonsa empty with SS and NRA ships swarming around everywhere." He met Jongup's glare with one of his own, noting the way the younger man's jaw was clenching angrily. 

The same jaw Himchan had been sliding his lips across barely two hours before.

_Good luck getting him to let you do_ that _again,_ Shadow Bbang said. Forget sentimental; Shadow Bbang was an asshole. It was time to get the real one back.

Himchan turned to Zelo. "Show me how to use the suit."

*

It was strange, Zelo thought. Like handling his own dead body. Watching Himchan disappear under the helmet gave him the oddest doubling sensation. He almost fancied he could _feel_ the armor, like a phantom limb. When Himchan removed the helmet and handed it back, it was heavy in Zelo's hands but weighed heavier on his thoughts. 

His thoughts, which seemed to be unraveling somehow. He braced himself against another flood of images: long gray corridors, a sea of identical Sentinel faces, flashing sensor readouts between his eyes and the world. 

His head hurt.

"Hey." 

He glanced up from the exam table to find Youngjae watching him from the other side of it, a worried frown on his face.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm--not sure," Zelo said. "I had another memory. Or a few, kind of."

Youngjae put down the armor he'd been examining. Himchan and Jongup had left to get the Albatross ready (and, Zelo suspected, to continue their argument). He estimated they had approximately six hours and twelve minutes to go until they reached their destination. 

"Tell me," Youngjae said. Zelo described the memories, the NRA soldier speaking to him in that oddly familiar, almost affectionate way, and the visual flashes he'd been having since.

"So it's really coming back to you now," Youngjae concluded. He looked...troubled. Somehow, Zelo had expected this news to cheer him up; he'd been so pleased with his progress. He must be too preoccupied to care much tonight. 

"It's mostly irrelevant," he said. "But I thought you should know."

"Irrel--no," Youngjae said. "Zelo--" But he broke off, chewing on his lower lip, studying him. 

"Youngjae?"

"Just--You're remembering more and more," Youngjae said slowly. "And--not all bad things, from the sound of it. And you're about to be back on an NRA station. Are you...having second thoughts? About staying on Cheonsa?"

Now it was Zelo's turn to stare, slightly dumbfounded. This seemed to give Youngjae the wrong idea, because he hurried on. 

"I mean, I get it, they're--your people. And it's your choice what you do, honestly, but--but _don't_ , okay? Don't go back. They just used you, Zelo, if you go back now they could wipe your brain again. Plus you just kind of _fit_ with us, you know? You shouldn't--" His words were speeding up, beginning to bump into each other. Zelo couldn't quite reach him across the table, so he used the Sentinel arm to poke the medic on the shoulder. Youngjae's mouth snapped shut as abruptly as if Zelo had hit a mute button.

"I don't want to go back, hyung," he told him. "I actually like having a mind of my own."

He didn't add that he also liked--very much--Youngjae asking him to stay. 

"...oh. Okay, good," Youngjae said after a beat. "That's...that's...did you just call me _hyung_?"

Zelo blinked a few times, thinking back. "I guess I did."

Youngjae's lips twitched. "That's new."

"Lots of new tonight," Zelo agreed. He meant the rotgut, the bonding with the crew, the memories. But Youngjae's smile slipped away and he frowned down at the armor.

"Yeah."

He was worryingly pale, save for the dark circles under his eyes. Zelo circled the table to stand by his side, touching his shoulder lightly with his real hand now. 

"You haven't slept in...twenty one hours," he said, cursing himself for not realizing it earlier. All three of the humans were similarly depleted, having worked a full day of physical labor and then consumed an unwise amount of alcohol. They were all basically running on coffee fumes at this point. He himself was working at only seventy percent of his usual capacity.

"I've had worse." Youngjae gave him a wan smile. "I'll be fine."

In Zelo's opinion this did not negate the possible benefits of a nap. 

"You're stubborn," he said. Youngjae's smile turned real. 

"You noticed."

*

Albatross had plenty of fuel. Himchan knew as much when he dragged Jongup aboard. The mechanic was clearly pissed at him and Himchan supposed he couldn't blame him. They didn't have much time to fix things, but he'd try.

"I just think it makes sense this way," he said quietly. Jongup didn't look up from the panel he was crouched over.

"It does not," he said. There was an unfamiliar bite to his words. "Let Zelo go in the armor if he's going anyway; he'll be safe enough in there."

Himchan sighed. "I'm not sending someone else. This is my responsibility."

Jongup's expression lost some of its ferocity. "If it weren't for me, we would have been with them," he said quietly. "If anyone's responsible, it's me."

Himchan stood over him, letting his knuckles brush Jongup's cheek.

"If we'd been there, we might be sitting in some SS cell right now. Youngjae and Zelo wouldn't know we were gone for hours, and the right heat sig would have faded by the time they figured it out. They'd never find us." He studied Jongup, who was still frowning, chewing on his lower lip. "When you think about it, it's really lucky I'm so irresistible." 

Jongup ducked his head as he snorted. "Pabo," he said, standing. Himchan was relieved to see a touch of exasperated humor back in his face. He took his hand.

"I'm sorry. About earlier, I was being an ass."

"I'm used to that." Jongup still looked unhappy but he squeezed his hand and Himchan let his forehead rest against his. God but he was tired. If only he could do this night over again he'd never let any of them leave the ship. He should have sent Daehyun to bed and then taken Jongup to his.

No use thinking about it now. 

"I'm still not sure about taking Zelo," Jongup admitted. "Aren't you afraid something'll go wrong and we won't be able to use what we know about the Sentinels against the NRA?"

Himchan shook his head. "I can't care about much of anything until we get Yongguk and Daehyunnie back. I hadn't thought about it until he said it, but--I think Zelo's our best shot. Everything else is bullshit."

_You're going soft, Channie_ , Shadow Bbang said, but he didn't sound convinced.

Jongup contemplated this for a beat, then tugged Himchan's collar, pulling him down to kiss him properly. "Come lie down with me for a few hours," he said. "We have time."

"I couldn't sleep after all that coffee," Himchan protested, though he felt ready to drop. It still seemed wrong when their friends could be going through anything.

"I believe in you," Jongup said simply. His bunk was just down the hall. They kicked off their shoes and Jongup pulled Himchan onto the bed, spooning him, grip tight. Himchan didn't complain.

*

They neared the station. They all managed some sleep--not enough, in Zelo's estimation, but better than nothing. When Himchan and Jongup returned to the medbay some hours later, their fingers were lightly linked, and Zelo was surprised by his own relief at the sight.

He roused Youngjae from the cot where he'd finally convinced him to nap. The medic caught his hand before opening his eyes, and when he did, it took a beat before awareness flooded his face and he sat up quickly, releasing him.

"Are we there?"

"Almost. We should put the commander in the suit now."

Jongup let go of Himchan with obvious reluctance. 

"Let's get this over with."

The armor was complex, but Jongup didn't so much as glance Zelo's way for assistance as he helped Himchan into it. Zelo sat on the cot beside Youngjae with a fresh pot of coffee and watched. His eyes kept wanting to return to Youngjae's face. His hand felt very _aware_ where the medic had touched him.

"What are the odds of this working? I know you must have calculated them by now." Youngjae gave him a level look. Zelo hesitated. 

"There are so many variables I can't accurately calc--"

"That bad, huh?" The medic turned back to the others. Jongup had Himchan installed in the suit up to his waist.

Zelo wanted to comfort him, to tell him something he'd want to hear. But he wouldn't lie, and he'd meant it--there _were_ still too many variables to get an accurate calculation.

Jongup left to check their position and Zelo took over with Himchan. 

"Remember, you can control what you see with the helmet. It'll give you more information than you need, but you can turn off anything superfluous," he said. Himchan just nodded. Jongup returned.

"This should be a good place for Cheonsa," he said. "We're out of the way of most traffic. Cloak's up; no one should even realize we're here."

"Then I guess it's time to go," Himchan said.

*

The suit was surprisingly light and even cool once Himchan was inside it. Everything but the helmet, which he'd leave off until the last second. 

Zelo was in his NRA drag, or rather the best-fitting pair of work pants they could find, the boots he'd worn to the salvage yard (only a size too small and apparently bearable) and a dark grey jacket.

_I'll pass for a tech in this_ , he'd said.

He'd sounded confident enough, but there was a distant look in his eyes and Himchan got the idea he was listening to something only he could hear. Fuck. After everything, Himchan didn't want to lose him, too. He felt like he was holding the crew together with both hands and was in danger of dropping them all. 

"You okay? Is it uncomfortable?" Jongup asked. 

"No," Himchan said quickly. "It just feels kind of weird, that's all."

"I bet." Jongup gave him a sidelong glance as they ducked into the hangar bay. 

"I'm flying," Youngjae said, skirting around them. "You look like you'll be clumsy in that thing."

"Be careful," Jongup told him. Youngjae paused at the bottom of Albatross's ramp. 

"You too, Jonguppie." They bumped fists lightly and then Youngjae was gone. Zelo gave him a nod on his way up the ramp, leaving them alone. 

"I hate this," Jongup said. 

"Me too," Himchan admitted. He realized with a start that, with his hands in the metallic armor, he couldn't touch Jongup. The mechanic seemed to realize this at the same time, frowning down at them. Then he stepped forward and took Himchan's face in both hands.

"Just come back to me in one piece, okay?"

Himchan nodded, throat suddenly thick. "We all will."

Jongup released him and stepped back, handing over the helmet. "I'll keep the lights on for you guys."

"Just wait for my signal," Himchan said. He allowed himself one last look at the mechanic as he retreated up Albatross's ramp. He really hoped this wasn't a mistake.

"All aboard?" Youngjae called from the cockpit. 

"Let's go," Himchan said. He strapped in beside Zelo, whose face wore that dark inward expression again. As Albatross lumbered to life and out of Cheonsa, Himchan nudged the younger man. "All right?"

Zelo gave a start and looked at him blankly for a beat. "I--'m not sure," he said slowly, surprising Himchan. He'd expected rote assurances, and it was something of a relief to hear this honest answer instead. 

"What's the matter?" he asked, pitching his voice soft so Youngjae wouldn't hear. He had enough to worry about.

Zelo, too, glanced at the cockpit. "We're in the range of NRA signals," he said finally. "I can..." He motioned to his head. Himchan raised his eyebrows.

"You can detect them without the suit?"

Zelo nodded. "They won't be clear unless I reactivate my transceiver, but they're still...." He pulled a frustrated face. "It's like having someone whispering in my ear but I can't quite make out what they're saying."

"That sounds...distracting." Himchan didn't want Zelo distracted right now. Once they had Yongguk and Daehyun back safely they could focus on figuring out Zelo's whole memory thing. 

Right, like it was up to him. 

"It's _familiar_ ," Zelo said. "Things are coming back. Mostly images, but..." He shook his head, then sat up a bit straighter. "Maybe they'll be helpful today."

"Maybe," Himchan echoed doubtfully. He glanced at the cockpit, then beyond and out the viewscreen. The outpost was in view now, growing ever larger. It was an ugly thing, its shape reminiscent of a spider with its bulbous main hub and the various wings shooting off like legs. One of these would be the security wing where they would find their people. 

Nerves tried to crowd in and Himchan caught his knee mid anxious bounce. He made himself be still. Shadow Bbang sat across from him. An asshole, maybe, but better than nothing. He regarded Himchan solemnly. 

_Try not to get yourself killed, okay?_ he said. 

"I promise," Himchan said. Zelo looked at him curiously, but Himchan just looked past him to the station, and waited for the spider to swallow them whole.

*

"Maybe I should come with you, after all." They had docked successfully. Now came the hard part. The hard _parts_ , rather. Zelo found himself half-wishing Himchan would grant Youngjae's wish. But the commander shook his head.

"I don't want your face on any NRA cameras if we can help it." Himchan had Zelo's head--helmet--in his hands. His face was stony--then softened slightly as he looked at Youngjae. "But we'll call you if we need you."

Youngjae swallowed hard and nodded, and Himchan put on the helmet. There was a soft metallic _thunk_ as it sealed. He studied the control panel on his arm for a beat before tapping in a command. The radio on Youngjae's belt gave a squawk. 

"Is this thing on? _"_ Himchan's voice was a bit tinny, but clear. Youngjae rolled his eyes. He hit the radio. 

"Can you hear me okay?"

_"_ Well, yeah. But you're also still right in front of me, so... _"_

"Signal strength won't be a problem," Zelo cut in. "I patched it through the ship's comm signal so unless the suit or the Albatross are damaged, you'll be able to hear each other. And my suit's channel is tapped into my processor, so he and I can talk, too."

Youngjae's fist clenched tight around the radio. "What about you and me? If you two get separated--"

"I can tap into the signal from most control panels around the station," Zelo assured him. 

"We won't get separated, _"_ Himchan said. _"_ It'll be fine _."_

"Good, hyung, 'cause overconfidence never backfires," Youngjae said. Himchan made as if to cuff his chin, the affectionate move turned threatening by the Sentinel armor. Youngjae ducked. "Shit, I surrender!"

"Fine, fine _."_ Himchan motioned to Zelo and made for Albatross's exit. Zelo hesitated for a beat, glancing at Youngjae. The moment felt weighted differently than when they'd left Cheonsa, and Zelo wished he'd seen how Jongup and Himchan had parted. Maybe he'd know what to say now.

Youngjae beat him to it.

"Watch your back out there," was all he said. 

*

The station was full of Sentinels. 

Zelo had to force himself not to stare. For the first time, he understood the crew's first reactions to his presence on Cheonsa. The blank-faced Sentinels were radiated clear menace; even most NRA personnel skirted around them. They gave Himchan an equally wide berth. 

_"_ This is creepy. _"_ Himchan's voice seemed to come straight from Zelo's own mind. _That_ was creepy. "Now that I know they're all people _..."_ He didn't have to finish; Zelo got it. Every Sentinel they passed was another human whose mind had been superimposed by NRA programming. Zelo felt a strange mix of wariness and pity as he looked at them. Youngjae had called the NRA _his people_ , but that wasn't right, was it? The NRA had done this to him, was _still_ doing this to countless thousands. 

The Sentinels were his people.

_"_ Zelo? Where do we go? _"_ Himchan's voice pulled him back to himself. Zelo looked around quickly, never breaking his stride.

After weeks spent in Cheonsa's narrow corridors and the cozy comfort of the mess hall and garden, the NRA station was rather imposing. The ceiling stretched far higher than Jongup's engine room, and the main atrium was filled with people and all their associated people-sounds and smells. Zelo's eyes ached dully under the artificial sunlight. 

A number of entrances lined the far wall. Zelo dismissed those with long queues of civilians waiting to make it through security; those would be the merchant and recreation aisles.He also skipped the passage only approached by workers in gray and blue coveralls. They shouldn't need anything in the engine room.

"This way," he said quietly. The passage they needed was blocked by a swarm of NRA officers and Sentinels. 

_"_ You sure about this? _"_ Himchan sounded nervous. Zelo meant to reassure him, but those gray uniforms were trying to recall to him the man he'd remembered earlier.

_I guess you're with me, Z-2._

He winced, willing the memory away. He couldn't do this now. 

"It's just the first checkpoint, it shouldn't be a problem," he told Himchan. He could imagine the commander's skeptical look, but there was nothing for it now. They were here.

One of the officers ambled over as they reached the entrance to the secure wing. 

"State your business," he said, glancing Zelo over with disinterest. 

"This unit's been called in," Zelo said, nodding to Himchan. The guard frowned. 

"Just the one?" Normally, Sentinels travelled in packs or pairs. 

"There was a problem with one of the units inside; they wanted it swapped out with this one," Zelo said, and in a fit of inspiration, added a careless shrug. To his surprise, the guard rolled his eyes and nudged the man beside him, 

"Another malfunction," he said, shaking his head. "They're dropping like flies lately." He stepped back and waved Zelo through. "Yeah, go on--"

Zelo went, hearing Himchan's clanking steps just behind him. They didn't speak until they had walked a ways from the guards. This hallway was wide and hexagonal, lit coolly from the baseboards, far less populated than the atrium had been. 

_"'_ Dropping like flies _'?"_ Himchan repeated quietly. 

"Malfunctioning Sentinels," Zelo said. His mind raced. 

_"_ Any way we could look into that without slowing us down too badly? Youngjae's asking if there's anything he can do from the ship _."_

This gave Zelo a pang. He wished he could hear Youngjae, too--a silly longing. 

"Maybe, here--" He motioned Himchan to the wall, out of the way of foot traffic. They didn't warrant a second glance from passersby, merely a tech tapping commands into a Sentinel's control padd. "I'm sending him a series of encryption codes. They're probably all out of date, but he can cycle through them, see if he can tap into secure communication--sometimes they reuse codes. We might get lucky."

He kind of doubted it, but he knew it would make Youngjae feel better to have something to do. 

They continued on their way. There were more and more Sentinels, more NRA officers in their gray uniforms. Zelo found himself scanning their faces, searching for the man in his memories. Who was he? The thought of him didn't bring the same sense of betrayed mistrust he felt about the NRA as a whole. In truth, the thought of him

_Looks like you're with me, Z-2_

felt closer to how Zelo felt about Yongguk--safe, with a side of affection. 

He could feel the memories like a rising wave in his mind, threatening to wash everything else away. The station was built like so many stations he'd been on, everything he looked at seemed to double, the past trying to superimpose over the present. 

He imagined a wall, shoddy and desperate, constructed between himself and the encroaching memories. He'd be no use to the captain and Daehyun if he let it fall, and Himchan would be essentially alone. He thought of Youngjae's frightened look when he learned his friends had been taken. The image bolstered him somewhat, grounded him in Now. He'd never known anyone like Youngjae before. 

It was fortunate the NRA were so unimaginative with their design; Zelo found the detention block exactly where he expected.

Unfortunately, there were more guards here.

The man who halted them this time had none of the casual disinterest of the first guard. 

"You'd better have a work order," he told Zelo. His words were tinged with disdain, his eyes flickering down his slightly mis-sized clothes.

"They asked us to come down right away, they didn't have time to write one up," Zelo said, unconsciously elongating his vowels slightly to match the NRA accent. The guard didn't move.

"No work order, no entrance," he said. 

Himchan's voice in Zelo's head: "Tell him I'm malfunctioning."

Of course. "They told me they were keeping all the malfunctioning units in here for now," he said. "For security. But if you want this one wandering around with a faulty transceiver, disobeying orders--" He shrugged and made as if to turn away, but the guard stopped him. 

"Another one? They'd better have a plan for dealing with this." His tone turned confidential, as though he and Zelo were on the same side. Zelo didn't let his disgust show. 

"Rounding them up in the detention center for now," he said. "Probably decommission the lot of them."

"Scrap 'em for parts and toss the rest out the airlock, I say," the guard said darkly. He moved aside. "Go on. Make them give you a work order next time, right?"

"Yes sir." Zelo found himself holding his breath, but no other guards moved against them as they walked through the double-sealed entrance to the detention block. 

They paused. The block stretched out to either side, an unbroken line of anonymous doors. 

"This way," Zelo said, more to get them out of sight of the guards outside than because he had any idea where he was going. He looked blankly at the cells as they passed, but of course this did no good. He needed to find a control panel he could tap int--

A white-hot spear of pain shot through his left eye. He cried out, going down hard on one knee.

"Zelo? What's the matter?" Himchan's worried voice, the cold uncomforting touch of Sentinel armor to his shoulder. Zelo barely noticed. He'd let himself be distracted and his mental wall had been breached. Memories poured in, images and sounds out of context and disconnected--

_A door with a tiny barred window--_

_"Looks like you're with me, Z-2."_

_A needle approaching his chest, his body violent with convulsions--_

_"Are you gonna finish that?"_

_A cell with blank walls and the blinking red light of a camera--_

_"Zelo._ ** _Zelo._** _Zelo, come back, okay? Come back_." Youngjae's voice, filtering in as from a great distance. He _was_ at a great distance, Youngjae wasn't here--was this all a memory, too?

He could still hear his voice. " _Zelo? C'mon, talk to me_!"

A Sentinel crouched in front of him and Zelo jerked back instinctively. The robot raised both hands. Right. Not a robot--Himchan. Zelo knew that. 

"I'm--what?" he managed. His body was shaking almost as madly as it had in his memory. 

"I patched Youngjae through." Himchan's voice. Himchan. Youngjae. 

" _You back with us?"_ The medic's voice was tight with worry. Zelo nodded before he remembered Youngjae couldn't see him. 

"I'm--sorry, I--remembered--" He couldn't finish. His mind was full, overstuffed with new information, yet he felt no closer to understanding the truth of any of it, had no idea how it all fit together. 

"Are you all right?" Himchan said. "Can you stand? We can't stay here."

Zelo looked around. They were out of the main hall, tucked into an alcove with a computer interface. Himchan must have dragged him. This would only hide them until someone walked by. 

"Yes," he said with more confidence than he felt. He let Himchan pull him to his feet, pressing the palm of one hand to his left eye, where phantom pain still pulsed. "I can, but--I can't focus, I don't know where we need to go--" His own uselessness hit him as hard as the memories. To come so close and to be the reason they didn't get the others back--

" _That's okay, Zelo,"_ Youngjae said. _"Those encryption codes you sent over came in handy. I know where they keep the new prisoners."_ His voice was quick, excited now. Zelo just needed to focus on him, just a bit longer. 

"Are we close?" Himchan asked. His hand still gripped Zelo's arm, gentle but firm. 

_"Very."_

_*_

He wasn't kidding. A dozen cells down--Zelo kept his feet somehow, and Himchan didn't breathe once along the way--then a few commands typed into the lockpad. The lock clicked open.

They ducked inside. Disappointment crowded in next to Himchan's terror, already in high gear since the first of Zelo's convulsions. There was only one man here.

Relief shouldered aside the dismay as Himchan recognized Yongguk, passed out on one of the cell's twin bunks. The Sentinel sensors informed Himchan that his best friend's heart was beating steadily, that the contusion on his cheek had done no structural damage to his face, and that he probably had to pee pretty badly. Himchan knelt beside him, shaking him hard, disrupting his REM cycle--God, it was weird that he knew that. Yongguk's eyes flickered open. 

The white of the eye above his bruise was flecked with dark red. Before Himchan could do more than wince, Yongguk had reared back. For the second time in as many minutes, Himchan raised both arms unthreateningly. 

"Bbang, it's me," he said, before remembering his voice was muffled at best. He tore the helmet off irritably. "It's me," he repeated. Yongguk's gaze flickered over him, then past him to where Zelo hovered just inside the doorway, still looking shaky.

"I can see that," Yongguk said, his voice even rougher than usual. "Nice outfit, Channie."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll explain later." Himchan got an arm under his friend and was relieved to see him stand on his own. "We need to grab Dae and get out of here."

Yongguk's face was a blank. Himchan had thought him disoriented, but now his stomach fell as he realized it was something worse. Yongguk shook his head slowly.

"Daehyun's gone," he said.


	13. Chapter 13

Himchan was pretty fucking sure this was unacceptable. Daehyun couldn't be _gone_. He had been a constant source of noise and amusement and aggravation for two years, and Himchan did not consent for him to stop any time soon.

Also, getting here had been _hard_. Wasn't there some sort of rule that meant things had to start going their way right about now?

Apparently not. Zelo was leaning just inside the cell, still looking rather wilted around the edges, and Yongguk's expression was a dull mask that Himchan wanted to shake off. 

Instead, he groped for something like patience. "What do you mean _gone?"_ he demanded.

"They--took him," Yongguk said haltingly. "He knew they would. I tried to stop them, but..." He touched the edge of his cheek where normal skin met swollen. "They stunned me again. I hate those things."

"So he's probably in another cell," Himchan said, both for Yongguk's benefit and Youngjae's--the medic had gone from yelling questions in his ear to absolute silence when Yongguk spoke. Who could blame him? Daehyun was his best friend; you couldn't go throwing words like _gone_ around in this kind of situation--

But Yongguk shook his head.

"They said they were moving him off the base," he said. "To an official detention center."

"What? Why?"

"He has a _record,"_ Yongguk said bitterly. "They called him a _war criminal,_ I don't even know what they're talking about--"

_"I do."_ Youngjae's voice was tinny from the helmet in Himchan's hand. Zelo flinched, raising one hand to his ear. Right, he could hear him. Himchan gave him a worried look. Zelo wasn't looking at them and in fact barely seemed aware they were there. Goddammit, the station had clearly triggered some sort of latent programming or his memory centers or something. Himchan prayed he wouldn't collapse again; it was going to be hard enough to get out of here without needing to carry him.

"Jae, what?" Himchan said, lifting the helmet so they could hear better. 

Rather than give any kind of a real answer, the medic swore colorfully a few times. _"I'm still logged into their system,"_ he said finally. _"The security clearance doesn't go very deep with this code, but--there is a protocol listed. Prisoners above a certain level aren't kept here, they're transported to another facility. That has to be where they're taking Dae."_

Okay fine, they'd circle back to that whole _war criminal_ business later. Himchan handed the helmet to Yongguk, who looked at it dubiously, and went to the doorway to peer up and down the block. He pulled his head back hastily as he caught sight of a pair of gray uniforms.

"Okay, not to alarm anyone, but we're about to have company," he said. "Bbang, have they been checking on you?"

"I've been unconscious."

"Right, so--" Himchan debated with himself. Then he sealed the door. This seemed to snap Yongguk out of his daze. 

"Um. Himchan. You do realize that's locked now."

"Give me that." Himchan snatched the helmet back and put it on, then tugged the blaster from Zelo's belt, moving him to the other side of the door. "We can get the jump on them, right?" he said. "Zelo?"

It seemed to take a long time for the words to trickle through Zelo's consciousness, but finally he gave a slow nod and looked at Himchan. 

"Protocol requires they read him his charges," he said. 

"Great.  See? They couldn't do that before, you were unconscious," Himchan said, glaring pointedly at Yongguk, who was still looking skeptical. Himchan focused on the door, cycling through the controls on the suit. A tap _here_ let him see the molecular makeup of the door--now _that_ was useful--and a tap _here_ meant--ah. He could see through it, sort of. He saw the approaching heat sigs of the guards outside. Two of them. Perfect. 

_Please slow down,_ he thought. _Stop here. Check on Bbang, come on--_

They slowed. If the Sentinel gloves had allowed it, Himchan would have crossed his fingers. Instead he tightened his grip on the blaster, standing against the wall just inside the cell. One of the guards began tapping commands into the lockpad, and a second later the door swung open. Himchan held his breath.

"Back up," the guard said. Himchan almost jumped, then realized he was addressing Yongguk, who retreated to his bunk and sat down. Himchan looked at Zelo, who was mimicking his posture on the other side of the doorway. His eyes were clear, thankfully, even if it looked a little bit like he was using the wall for support. 

The first guard stepped inside. He was focused on Yongguk, but peripheral vision was also a thing so he immediately turned, stumbling back half a step in surprise when he saw Himchan. 

In an excellent moment of synchronicity, Zelo hooked an elbow around his neck from behind while Himchan reached out to pull the other guard inside. The man gave a startled yelp and Himchan hit him over the head with the blaster. Thr--four times. He always forgot how hard it was to knock someone unconscious. 

"Why not just shoot him?" Yongguk asked. He sounded more himself, a step closer to the Bang Yongguk Himchan really needed right now. 

"Didn't want to ruin the uniform," Himchan explained. His Sentinel fingers were clumsy on the buttons. Yongguk knelt to help him, getting the uniform undone much quicker. Himchan turned his attention to Zelo, who was watching them, the other guard still in his arms. "I think he's out, Z." 

Zelo let go. The other guard fell limp to the floor. Zelo looked down at him dispassionately. 

_"What's happening? Are you guys okay?"_ Youngjae demanded. 

"Just getting Bbang a costume change," Himchan said. "God, he's skinny."

Yongguk gave him the finger as pulled the guard's gray pants over his bony knees. Himchan turned to Zelo. 

"Are you sure about that protocol?" he asked. "We're _here_ ; if we leave and Dae's around here somewhere--"

Zelo shook his head. His face still wore a painful, pinched look, but at least he was responsive.

"Youngjae's right, if they consider him a higher-level prisoner, they'd transport him to an official detention station."

"But--already?" Himchan asked desperately. "They wouldn't keep him here for five fucking minutes?" He couldn't stop the childish refrain of _but it's not_ ** _fair_ ** running through his head. They'd been so close.

"They would have put him on the next ship out," Zelo said, seeming to rouse himself, a touch of apology to his voice now. "At this point our best bet is to find the most likely station they'd take him to; the odds of us identifying and intercepting the ship he's on are--not good."

"I thought the odds of mounting a successful prison break weren't good," Himchan muttered. Zelo just looked at him. Right. One problem at a time. Once they were safely back on Cheonsa, they could devise the next plan. 

"Right, okay," he said. He scanned the hallway. Empty so far. "Looks like the coast is clear for now," he said. "Zelo, can you guide us out of here? Preferably a back way?"

Again, it took him a beat too long to answer. Whatever was happening with him, he wasn't okay. Himchan needed to get him back to Youngjae. 

But finally Zelo gave a slow nod. "I think so," he said. 

Himchan gestured to the door and put his helmet back on. "Lead the way," he said.

*

Jongup was climbing the walls. Not literally, though if he'd been in his engine room he actually could. But he stayed in the cramped cockpit where Youngjae could give him the occasional update. 

Very occasional.

Maddeningly occasional.

"It's fine, I'm just _going crazy here by myself_ ," Jongup said loudly, in case Cheonsa was in a listening mood. 

(She wasn't.)

Fine, be that way. Jongup checked their position for the millionth time that hour, cursed Himchan's practicality for the millionth time that hour. Jongup should be with them, this was stupid. 

The panel chirruped as he received another message from Youngjae. It was short: _They found Yongguk. Dae's gone. Something's wrong with Zelo._

Jongup stared at the panel, stomach churning. 

"That's it?" he asked no one. "That's _it?"_

_They found Yongguk. Dae's gone. Something's wrong with Zelo._

"Is he okay? What do you mean, _gone_? _What's_ wrong with Zelo?" Jongup demanded of a disinterested panel. This was _the fucking_ _worst_.

Before he could begin sending a stream of questions back to Albatross, another panel did a thing. 

Jongup was always a bit out of his element in the cockpit, and now it took him a beat to figure out that Cheonsa was being...hailed. The viewscreen darkened as a ship pulled up directly in front of them. 

A ship, whose sensors should have slid over Cheonsa without so much as a blip. 

Jongup scanned it quickly, ignoring their attempts to talk. He swore. It had the same heat sig of the SS ship they'd followed here. Had they somehow detected Cheonsa behind them?

Finally, resigned but curious, he accepted the incoming transmission. 

The ship's image on the viewscreen was replaced by a man. 

" _Come in, mysterious cloaked ship, I can see you,"_ he was saying, his tone both bored and amused. Jongup's stomach lurched as he took in the familiar scarred face he hadn't seen in almost five years. It couldn't be. 

He tapped in the commands to transmit his own image.

_"There you are,"_ the man said, brightening, then his expression faltered. " _Wh--Is that you, Runt?"_

"Jin," Jongup greeted him. 

After a shocked beat, the Jackdaw smiled.

*

Zelo wanted to tell Yongguk that most NRA officers didn't actually wear leather jackets over their uniforms, but he wasn't sure he could trust his own eyes. The doubling sensation was getting worse. Images that could only be from his past popped up to flicker over what was in front of him now. Yongguk shifted into the man from his memories. The back hall Zelo was leading them down doubled and became a crowded ship's corridor full of Sentinels until he blinked them away.

This was very distracting. 

_"I'm trying to figure out where they'd take Dae,"_ Youngjae said. His voice, filtered through Zelo's processor, was about the only thing in his mind that made sense right now. 

"Keep talking, okay?" he requested. The others gave him a funny look. He shook his head and pointed to it. "Youngjae," he said. "It helps."

_"Sure. It'll keep me from going crazy, anyway. Um. So yeah, I'm looking at the nearest NRA stations but I don't actually know which ones are detention centers, so I hope you can help me with that--"_

His voice washed over Zelo, slowing the frantic rate of his heart, which had sped up by a solid eight percent since his collapse in the hallway. 

He wasn't ready.

Forget the inconvenient timing, forget that the crew needed him to keep guiding them through the bowels of this station and safely back to the docking bay where Youngjae and Albatross waited. Forget that if anything happened to them now, it would be Zelo's fault.

He wasn't _ready._ He didn't care anymore who he'd been before. He didn't care how'd he'd become a Sentinel or made his way to that warehouse. If the images in his mind now were any indication, he was better off in the dark. The hell with the past; he was more interested in his future. Youngjae's voice in his head reminded him that he might actually have one.

_Just get back to Albatross,_ he told himself. They'd figure out how to get Daehyun back, they'd wipe the horrible look off Youngjae's face that he'd worn since his best friend was taken, everything would be--

They rounded a corner and came face-to-face with a pair of Sentinels. 

They should have kept walking, kept pretending they had every right to be here. But the back corridors were small and Sentinels were huge and two of them were intimidating. They stared at the fugitives and the fugitives stared back. 

"Um," Zelo said. Youngjae broke off mid-sentence. 

_"What's the matter?"_

Of course there was no way to know what the Sentinels were thinking. "Thinking." No way to determine what their programming might make of an NRA officer with a leather jacket over his uniform. Or whether they would notice instantly that the "Sentinel" before them was missing some key components of his armor. Hell, they stood so still, they could have been deactivated, only Zelo could detect their transceivers, active and working. 

Which--fuck. Which meant they could detect _his_ , receiving Youngjae's comm link. 

They raised their arms and their cannons rose from their implants. 

_"Zelo, what's happening?"_ Youngjae demanded. 

"Jae, just shut up a second," Himchan said. He and Yongguk lifted their blasters; no point playing it cool now. But then the Sentinels stopped. 

"Hold your fire," Zelo told the others quickly. Those blasters wouldn't be a match for Sentinel armor. 

Speaking of which. Of _whom_. One of the Sentinels stepped closer to Zelo. He flinched as he felt an unmistakable _probing_ in his mind. 

_Hold your fire_ , he thought, and the Sentinel took a step back. Then, as one, both Sentinels lowered their cannons and stepped aside. 

"What did you do?" Himchan's voice sounded slightly awed. Zelo shook his head.

"I'm not...sure."

"Let's ponder it later," Yongguk said. He took a few cautious steps, and when the Sentinels made no move to detain him, the others followed suit. They reached the end of the hall and turned back. The Sentinels hadn't moved. 

"They were in my head," Zelo murmured. Yongguk swore.

"You think they'll send someone after us?"

Zelo shook his head. "If they'd wanted to stop us, they could have."

"Kind of makes you wonder just what kind of _malfunctions_ those guards were talking about before," Himchan said. Zelo could only nod. 

"I'll take any bit of luck we can get," Yongguk said. He moved to let Zelo go ahead. 

They made their way out into the main atrium with triplet sighs of relief. Here there were crowds to get lost in, enough variety of humanity that no one looked at them twice. 

"How long d'you think until they notice?" Yongguk asked Zelo in a low voice as they skirted a large family. Zelo couldn't help staring at the children. His memory threw up a double image, a cluster of kids in threadbare gray uniforms. Pushing this one away made the pain behind his eye flare up again.

"Not long," he answered Yongguk's question belatedly. "The sooner we're off this base, the better."

"No arguments here."

Thankfully, they were close. They made a bee-line for the docking bay. 

_"Zelo? Problem. They know Yongguk's gone. They're transmitting an alert. You all need to get back here_ now _."_

"Almost there." Albatross was in sight. The trio walked as briskly as possible without actually running. "Their next step will be shutting down the docking bay."

_"Well, that would be a problem."_

Were those officers looking at them? Were they headed their way?

It didn't matter. They'd reached Albatross. They ascended the ramp, Yongguk first, then Himchan, and finally Zelo. He allowed himself one final look back, locking eyes with an officer who--yes, was _definitely_ headed their way.

"We need to go _now_ ," Zelo said, retracting the ramp behind him. 

Himchan took the helmet off and tossed it onto a nearby seat as Youngjae hurried into the room. 

"Hyung!" He took Yongguk's face in both hands and tilted it gently, scowling at his bruise. Something sharp went through Zelo unexpectedly, but then Himchan was there, blocking his view, holding out both hands. 

"I'll fly, just help me out of these gloves--"

"I'm fine, Jae," Yongguk was saying. 

" _Fine_ does not involve this much _swelling_ \--"

Zelo's hands were clumsy, but he got the gloves off Himchan and the commander slipped away, clapping Youngjae on the shoulder as he passed on the way to the front of the shuttle.

There came a loud banging from the underside of the ship. 

"Time to go!" Himchan called from the cockpit.

"I'm on weapons," Yongguk told Youngjae, sliding out of his grasp and going to join Himchan. The medic scowled after him for a beat before turning to Zelo. 

" _You_ ," he said irritably. Or--worriedly. "C'mere--" He grabbed Zelo's sleeve and tugged him to sit. "Come on, jacket off, let me get your vitals--"

Zelo allowed him to pull off his jacket as they sat, relieved that there were no memories intruding over his eyes. Youngjae was Youngjae was Youngjae.

"I'm sorry about Daehyun," Zelo said quietly. He could feel Albatross powering up beneath them. Youngjae went still for a beat. He wouldn't meet his eyes, staring somewhere around Zelo's throat, chewing his lower lip. Zelo ducked to capture his gaze. "We'll find him."

Youngjae nodded quickly, swallowing hard. His grip was tight on Zelo's wrist. 

"Well. At least Yongguk's back; it wasn't a total waste," he said. "Thanks for that. Now tell me exactly what's happening with you."

*

"Oh look, they're closing the door," Yongguk said. 

"Yah, I see it, I see it," Himchan snapped. "We'll make it." 

Fortunately, the docking bay had giant doors, and giant doors closed slowly. Albatross was a small ship, and Himchan liked flying fast. They made it out with room to spare. 

"See?" Himchan said. 

"See?" Yongguk countered, pulling up the rear viewscreen to show the half dozen NRA vessels swarming toward them. Whatever. Himchan would not give in to negativity.

"We're prepared for this." He hit the comm. "Cheonsa, we're coming in hot."

No response. Himchan glanced worriedly at Yongguk. "Maybe he stepped away from the 'pit for a minute."

"While you were on an NRA station? Not likely."

He was right. Himchan tried again. "Jongup-ah, come in."

Nothing. Himchan's hands flew over the controls. "Running a scan for Cheonsa, compensating for the cloaking tech..."

"Three of those ships are going to be in weapons' range in one minute," Yongguk said. Himchan swore. 

"I don't understand."

"No Cheonsa?" Yongguk said. 

"I don't under _stand_!" There was nothing. It didn't make sense; Youngjae would have heard if Cheonsa was discovered and Jongup captured. And there was simply no way Jongup would leave them. 

_Jackdaw,_ a traitorous, untrusting voice Himchan had thought he'd abandoned, whispered. 

Bullshit. He _did_ trust Jongup. Something was wrong. 

"Twenty seconds. We can't outrun them," Yongguk said. "Options?"

His voice was calm. Gone was his detachment from earlier, and in his place was the man Himchan had faced death with countless times. Thank God for that. 

"Shoot them," he said. "I'll make for the shipping lanes, see if we can lose them in the heavy traffic--"

"They're in range," Yongguk said. He fired and Himchan dodged the first barrage of artillery from the nearest NRA vessels. Thankfully they were only small fighters and their guns didn't pack much of a punch. But fighting them off would slow Albatross down, give the NRA time to round up a few of their freighters, and then the shuttle would be sunk. 

"Three minutes till we hit real traffic," Himchan said. He could see the first crowded shipping lane ahead, the lines of ships moving to and from the station with official cargo. He didn't want to take this fight to a populated area, risking innocent casualties, but he didn't especially want to be blown up or captured by the NRA, either. 

Yongguk swore. "I always forget how useless the weapons are on this thing."

Himchan didn't have the attention to spare to answer; it took all of his concentration to evade the volleys the fighters were sending their way. There were now three within range. He swore as he failed to dodge a blast and the shuttle shuddered under a direct hit.

_Daehyunnie, where are you when we need you?_

"We've got a fourth ship incoming," Yongguk said.

"I know, I know--and a fifth and sixth, Bbang, I've got it," Himchan snapped, not bothering to glance at the viewscreen. 

"No, Channie, this is--shit," Yongguk said. "It's an SS ship. A big one."

Himchan echoed his curse. "The same one that took you guys?"

" _I_ don't know, they didn't exactly give us a tour. They're--fuck, they're flying close. Our blasters aren't going to make a dent in that hull."

And now Himchan didn't have to glance over at Yongguk's viewscreen, because the SS ship was filling the front window. 

"This is not our day," he snapped. The other ship seemed to take an age to pass them by, then--

"They're circling us--getting between us and the NRA fighters," Yongguk said. 

"Fifty credits says they want to be the ones to bring us in, make as much off us as they can," Himchan griped, trying to eke more from Albatross's small engine, wishing for Jongup, wishing for Daehyun. 

"I can almost respect that," Yongguk said. "Make the NRA pay for us twice."

"Definitely, Bbang. Good for them. That would almost make our imminent capture and imprisonment worth it." The controls under Himchan's hands went unresponsive and he swore. Again. He was getting bored with his own dialogue. "They're overriding our controls and pulling us in."

He and Yongguk looked at each other. "I guess this is one way of finding Dae," Yongguk offered, giving Himchan a half smile. Himchan laughed once, a harsh sound. 

"I guess so." He reached for their discarded blasters. "Still, let's go down fighting, yeah?"

Yongguk smiled grimly. "Fighting."

The comm panel chirruped. Before they could react, a familiar voice filled the cockpit. 

" _Albatross, come in."_

Himchan practically dropped his blaster in his haste to respond. 

"Jongup-ah?"

_"Commander,"_ Jongup said. Himchan could hear the relief in his voice, but he frowned. He'd only call him _Commander_ if they were being overheard. _"Don't shoot, okay? We're pulling you into the bay."_

Himchan's own relief washed away. "You're on the SS ship? Are y--is Cheonsa all right?"

_"Still in one piece,"_ Jongup said carefully. _"Just--let them bring Albatross in. They'll handle those fighters."_ There was a pause as Himchan and Yongguk stared at each other, then at the fast-approaching hangar bay of the SS ship. " _Trust me,"_ Jongup added. " _I'll see you in a minute."_

There was a click as the communication ended. 

Himchan's worry and relief mingled, a super-fun cocktail of complicated feelings. 

"We've got blasters," Yongguk reminded him, pulling Himchan to his feet. " _And_ two Sentinels, kind of. Nice move, that one."

They joined Youngjae and Zelo in the back of the shuttle. Zelo was pale, his eyes closed, head resting on the wall behind him. Youngjae looked around worriedly. 

"What's happening?"

"We found Cheonsa," Yongguk said. "It's kind of a good-news-bad-news situation. How's Zelo?"

Youngjae didn't answer right away, but Himchan understood one thing: they didn't have two Sentinels, after all.

*

"If they come out shooting, you understand we'll have to take them out," Jin told Jongup casually. 

"Try it and I'll kill you," Jongup shot back. They stood in a small cluster outside the hangar bay with Jin's second-in-command, a man liberally covered in tattoos all the way up his neck. Jongup barely noticed him, so distracting was it to be back in the company of his old tormentor. 

Jin smirked. He'd been alternating between cool threats and behaving as though this was a long-awaited reunion.

"You think you can fight me now, Runt?" he asked, almost affectionately. Jongup wasn't fooled. The scar on his chest had been ordered by Boss Woo, but had been delivered by Jin.

"I've learned a few things since you saw me last," he said simply, glaring at the door rather than the ex-Jackdaw. Was Albatross inside yet? He wouldn't breathe easy until he'd seen the others. At least he knew Himchan was alive.

"Please. I taught you everything you know," Jin said. Jongup rolled his eyes. 

"They're in," Neck Tattoo said, and Jin grinned broadly, clasping Jongup tightly by the shoulder. 

"Let's greet our guests," he said.

They entered the hangar bay and Jongup breathed a silent sigh of relief to see Albatross beside Cheonsa with nothing but a few scorch marks on her hull to betray the recent skirmish. The ramp lowered. 

Yongguk and Himchan, still in the full Sentinel armor, descended the ramp, coming to stop before Jongup, Jin, and Tattoo.

"You all right?" This from Yongguk, who ignored the others. Jongup nodded quickly, looking him over, slightly surprised at the depth of his relief to see him. He had a hell of a shiner, but he was alive and he was here. Whatever had gone wrong, Himchan's crazy plan had partly worked after all. The thought gave Jongup a small burst of pride and he glanced at the Sentinel, wishing he could see through the armor.

"You?"

"Fine." Yongguk turned his attention on Jin, who smiled distractedly.

"Hello, again," he said, but Jongup could see he only had eyes for Himchan. He circled the pair, staring. "Shit, Runt, I thought you were lying, but--after all this time, you really got your hands on a murderbot."

Yongguk's eyes narrowed at Jin's familiar tone. The Jackdaw continued, "How d'you get it to do what you want?"

"I had to tell him some things," Jongup told Yongguk. "But not everything."

He'd had to get over his shock quickly when Jin appeared in his viewscreen. Seeing him, Jongup understood how the SS ship had noticed Cheonsa through the cloak; Jin used the same cloaking tech himself. 

He had announced magnanimously that he wouldn't kill Jongup, but he _would_ need to take his ship. Jongup had used the only bargaining chip he had: valuable intel about the NRA. He'd convinced Jin to wait and intercept Albatross on the promise that they'd make it worth his while. 

"Well, then," Yongguk said, turning to Himchan. Himchan lifted both hands and Neck Tattoo and Jin lifted their blasters instinctively.

"Wait for it," Jongup told them. Slowly, Himchan finished his movement and took off the helmet. 

"Hey there," he said pleasantly. Jongup had to bite his lip to keep from grinning. 

"...the hell?" Jin said, the shock on his face genuine. 

"Yeah, so the Sentinels are human," Jongup said. Of all the people who might learn this, he'd never have chosen the former Jackdaw. But he knew it was their best shot at getting out of this alive. Information was power and power was profit, and little else motivated both Jackdaws and the SS.

"What--all of them?" Jin said. Jongup ignored him and turned back to the others. Himchan's eyes were hungry on his face, but also curious. Jongup realized he hadn't made introductions.

"Oh. So, um, this is--Jin," he told his friends. Blank stares met this pronouncement. He sighed. "He was one of the Jackdaws I--grew up with--" That sounded weird and mundane and wrong, but how else to say it? Jongup glanced at Himchan, who stood stock-still, staring at Jin blankly.

"You were on the ship that kidnapped Jongup and his mother?" he said. Okay, so _that_ was another way to say it.

"Guilty," Jin said with a shrug. "Small universe, huh?"

Himchan blinked, then smashed the Sentinel helmet into Jin's face. Jin went down like a stone, blood spurting shockingly from his nose.

"Oh, shit," Neck Tattoo said, taking a step forward and then stopping with a grimace. Yongguk stepped between him and Himchan, blaster raised.

" _Fuck_ ," Jin groaned. Probably. It was hard to make it out, both hands pressed to his face, blood everywhere. Himchan's expression was shifting into cold fury. He reached for Jongup, never taking his eyes off Jin. Jongup came to stand at his side. 

"Is the helmet okay?" he asked. He felt the absurd urge to laugh, or maybe to kiss Himchan, like, a lot. 

"Helmet's fine," Himchan said absently, then turned a worried frown on Jongup. "Are you?"

Jongup glanced down at Jin and the desire to laugh disappeared. "Small universe," he muttered. Himchan nodded. Jongup nudged his hand. "Hyung, where's Daehyun?"

Himchan looked unhappy. Jongup's stomach dipped. "We--had some problems," he said haltingly. 

Jin was finding his feet. Himchan aimed a blaster his way, not looking away from Jongup right away.

"Do I need to shoot you?" he asked when he finally gave the other man his attention.

"Fucking asshole, I should kill you--" Jin's words were somewhat muffled from the blood and his whole broken face situation. Himchan nodded understandingly. 

"Do I need to shoot you in the kneecaps?" he amended. Jin had dropped his blaster when he went down. His eyes darted down to it, then to Himchan's gun.

"I should kill you _slowly_ ," he said resentfully. Jongup retrieved his blaster and gave him a sunny smile.

"What's a Jackdaw doing on an SS ship?" Yongguk asked. He had, Jongup saw, liberated Neck Tattoo's blaster. 

Jin rolled his eyes. "I'm not a Jackdaw anymore. I've had a career change."

"From the Jackdaws to the SS," Himchan said, the disgust clear in his voice. "You've really moved up in the world."

"Yeah? And how many people did you kill for the NRA?" Jin shot back. Himchan rolled his eyes.

"I'm not a Sentinel, idiot. I'm just borrowing the outfit. Keep up."

"Hyung, what _kind_ of problems?" Jongup cut in, unable to wait. "Dae's not--?"

"No, Jongup-ah," Yongguk said hastily. "At least--we don't think so. They just moved him. We're going after him." He sounded calm and confident, but Jongup could see his worry lurking just under the surface. Yongguk turned to Jin. 

"Sentinels are human," he said. "We haven't decided what to do with that information yet. But we're betting it's worth something."

Jin's eyes lit with cunning interest. He swiped a sleeve over his face, seeming to dismiss his own injury. He'd had far worse, Jongup recalled. 

"I'm betting you're right," Jin said. "Now, how do I get in on that action?"

*

"I don't know, Zelo. We don't know what it'll do," Youngjae said.

Zelo didn't look up. He had one hand pressed to the back of his neck, his head hanging between his knees. 

"Doesn't matter," he muttered. "I can't do anything to help while I'm like this."

Youngjae fidgeted uncertainly. It had been his idea in the first place to remove Zelo's implant to see if there was recorded information on it they could retrieve. But what had sounded both simple and exciting while he was drunk sounded a lot different now that Youngjae was sober and one best friend down. 

Hell, they didn't even know if the implant was the source of Zelo's new spate of memories. Taking it out could do more harm and zero good.

But Zelo was right--they had to do _something._

He was rocking slightly in his seat, his fingers probing at the implant site as though they could dig it out. Youngjae winced and pulled his hand away. 

"Maybe as we get farther away from the station, the--interference, I guess?--will fade again by itself," he suggested. Zelo's hand was cold. Youngjae used both of his to try to warm it. He wished he would _look_ at him; he wanted to see his face. 

Zelo shook his head slowly. "It's getting worse," he said quietly. "I remember--" He broke off and was silent for a long moment. Youngjae felt ready to climb out of his skin. 

"Okay," he said finally. Zelo looked up. He looked haggard, exhausted, and Youngjae realized he'd never seen Zelo this tired before. He looked sick.

"You'll do it?" Zelo said hopefully. Youngjae took a deep breath.

"I'll try. But only if it's easy to get out; if it's too tied into your brain or nervous system--"

"I understand." Zelo squeezed his hand. Youngjae wasn't sure it was on purpose. "Please just try."

Youngjae set out his tools next to the makeshift exam table, a.k.a. the bench in the back of the shuttle. He really hoped Himchan and Yongguk weren't getting into a shooting match with the SS right now. He hadn't _heard_ blaster fire yet, but--

_Focus, Youngjae._

"Take off your shirt," he said. Zelo did. He was pale, his skin flawless other than his implants and a faint puckered scar on his chest. Youngjae's mouth was very dry. "Lie down."

Zelo waited a beat until Youngjae met his eyes. They were calm now, trusting. _Please_ , Youngjae thought, _don't let me fuck this up._

Zelo stretched out on his stomach and Youngjae knelt beside him. 

"I'm numbing the area."

"There's no need, my tolerance for pain is higher than--"

"Oh my God, I _know_ , you're enhanced and amazing. Don't start with me, Zelo." 

Zelo's cheek rested on the seat, but his dimple flashed for a beat. Youngjae swallowed hard, hesitating. 

"I trust you," Zelo said. "Please."

Youngjae began to cut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise we'll catch up with Daehyun next chapter! Thanks for reading. :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Then**

*****

"Do you know why you're here?" the NRA judge asked. 

Daehyun shifted against his restraints. His nose itched. He scrunched it a few times in lieu of scratching, then yawned at the judge in lieu of answering the question and incriminating himself. The judge looked unsurprised. "You are a Matoki pilot and a war criminal," she accused.

Daehyun supposed that was one way of putting it.

"Is _war criminal_ what you guys call soldiers?" he asked, his mouth overriding his brain's suggestion that he shut the hell up. "Cause I've seen how you people work and...actually, that seems accurate." He didn't have any wars to compare this one to, of course, but the past year had shown NRA soldiers to be, in Daehyun's humble opinion, unnecessarily dickish.

His interrogator's expression tightened very slightly. 

"Your ship conducted a raid on a civilian outpost. Two thousand six hundred and one souls killed--"

"Bullshit," Daehyun burst out, trying to sit up straighter against his bonds. "That was a _military_ base--"

"You admit you were a willing part of the attack?"

_Shut_ up _, Jung Daehyun_.

He sat back in his seat, shutting his mouth. The restraints dug sharply into his wrists, cut across his upper arms and chest. No more talking for this soldier, no sir. Two thousand six hundred and one civilians? Please. Did this woman think he was stupid? She was just trying to get in his head.

Still. Disquiet needled him. The base they'd raided the day before _had_ been putting off surprisingly low radiation for the amount of weaponry they should have been carrying. It had been an easy mission, and there weren't many of those nowadays. What if...

No. Bullshit. This was an interrogation tactic, nothing more.

His captor was watching him. Best not to give her anything to see. 

"Your captain has carried out at least four missions that led to extensive civilian casualties," she said after a beat, checking something on her computer. "He has quite a reputation for savagery."

Daehyun curled his hands into fists. The NRA were always accusing them of _savagery_ , as if it were so inhuman of the Matoki to object to being forcibly removed from their home planet. He wouldn't take the bait. And Captain Kang was no murderer. 

( _What if_...)

When he didn't respond, his interrogator gave a small shrug. 

"You were the head pilot," she said. "You're culpable in the deaths of every civilian lost on that station."

He'd known not to hope for a trial, but it still stung to hear that certainty in her voice. He wondered what the NRA did to so-called _war criminals_.

She waved in a set of guards, who unhooked Daehyun's chains from his chair and pulled him roughly to his feet. 

"Take him to D-Block," the woman said. "He's going to be staying with us a while."

*****

**Skip**

*****

"I already told them I don't need therapy," Daehyun said. It was just polite to keep the guy from wasting his time. It was his second time in Daehyun's room, his second house-call, all because when Daehyun's alarm went off reminding him of his appointment in the medical center, his body let out a resounding _Nah,_ and stayed right where it was.

Now the medic was back. He didn't wait for Daehyun to invite him in this time, just barged in as soon as he opened the door. He was sorting through his supplies, but he looked up at Daehyun's words. 

"What?"

"Therapy," Daehyun repeated loudly, then winced, cleared his throat, and continued at a normal volume, "So if that's why you're here--"

"I'm not a therapist," the medic--Yoo, his name tag had read--said. "So don't even _try_ to talk to me about your trauma or whatever, because I won't listen."

Yoo was kind of an asshole, but Daehyun found himself almost smiling anyway. It was a brief urge, passing quickly, but it was a surprise. Daehyun hadn't smiled in....he hadn't smiled in...Okay, he couldn't remember. 

"Sit," Yoo said, motioning to the bed. Daehyun sat. Yoo checked his pulse, timing it against his watch--the old-fashioned kind, on his wrist. Daehyun watched him. He thought they were the same age, except obviously Daehyun was a thousand years older. 

"You sleeping?" Yoo asked, not looking up. 

"Nah, I'm awake."

"And hilarious," Yoo said without a trace of amusement. "Been taking your meds?"

Daehyun glanced at the small table beside his bed, and the cluster of pill bottles scattered across it.

"When I remember."

"And how often is that?" Now Yoo was checking his--glands or something? Daehyun couldn't see the point of it; he wasn't sick. But the medic's touch was gentle, and no one had touched Daehyun since. Not since. 

He tried to think about the question. "A few times a...week?"

Yoo looked at him head-on, pursing his lips. "You're supposed to take them a few times a _day_."

"What _for_?" Daehyun didn't mean to snap. He couldn't seem to regulate his own voice anymore. Half the time it came out a whisper, other times it would be near a shout. He rarely even realized he was being weird until whoever he was talking to--or yelling at--reacted.

Yoo didn't flinch. "They should help you sleep, for one," he said mildly. "Help regulate your moods."

"You mean stop me from offing myself," Daehyun said. Yoo met his gaze squarely.

"Ideally, yeah."

"God, doctors are so _controlling_." 

Youngjae smiled grimly. 

"That's right," he said. He circled the bed to survey Daehyun's pill bottle kingdom. "If this is too much, we can make a change," he offered. Daehyun flopped back onto his bed in celebration. Yoo frowned at him thoughtfully. "Are you not taking them because you can't remember or because you don't like how they make you feel?"

Daehyun felt. Tired. He managed a shrug. "Who gives a shit," he muttered.

"Are you having nightmares?"

  _Only when I sleep._

"Sometimes."

Yoo returned to his bag and rifled through it for a minute, finally pulling up a foil packet. He tossed it onto Daehyun's chest. 

"Take those tonight for a dreamless sleep," he said. Daehyun plucked the packet off himself and studied it. It was open, the edges crimped so the small pills inside wouldn't fall out. 

"This isn't a prescription," he said. Yoo's cheeks colored slightly but he didn't look away.

"They're mine," he said shortly. "They work."

There were only two pills left. Daehyun gave the medic a dubious look. "One night's sleep is going to solve all my problems, huh?"

Yoo rolled his eyes. "It might improve your disposition," he said. 

"So you haven't done the bedside manner part of your training yet," Daehyun guessed. 

"Do you want them or not?" 

A dreamless sleep? Daehyun wanted. "Yes," he said meekly. "Thanks." 

Yoo gave a satisfied nod. "I'm coming back tomorrow," he said. "I can get more of those pills by then." He gathered up his things. Suddenly, Daehyun didn't want him to leave.

"That's it?" he said. "You didn't do anything."

"I checked that you still have a pulse," Yoo said. "Congrats on that, by the way. Take your nutrition supplements and eat dinner; you're still undernourished. Other than that, there's not much wrong with you that some sleep and a few years of therapy won't help fix. Because you _definitely_ need therapy. From a therapist."

It was Daehyun's turn to roll his eyes. "I don't really see that happening right now, do you?"

Therapy was a luxury, and war wasn't an especially luxe time. 

"No," Yoo sighed. "But that just makes the sleep thing more important. So take the damn pills and enjoy. I'll see you tomorrow."

He was gone before Daehyun could wonder what dreams a pampered medic from the stations could be avoiding.

*****

**Skip**

*****

The mirror was smashed, its shards spread across the sink and littering the floor nearby. There was one long sliver embedded in Daehyun's knuckles. He stared at it, turning his hand to catch his reflection for just a flash.

It took a beat for the knocking to filter through. He looked at the door and sighed. Getting up seemed like a lot of work.

"Come in," he called. He had a hunch he knew who it was. 

Sure enough, the door slid open to reveal Youngjae. The medic stepped inside uncertainly, glancing around the room. His eyes widened when he spotted Daehyun, seated on the floor against the far wall. The blood on his knuckles stood out against the stark white of the room.

"Shit." Youngjae hurried over. He kicked away the worst of the glass so he could crouch next to Daehyun. He took his injured hand with a sympathetic hiss, turning it gently to examine it before looking at Daehyun. "Hey." He snapped his fingers next to Daehyun's ear, but the sound seemed muffled. Daehyun blinked. He was so tired. 

"Don't let me fall asleep again," he said. Youngjae's frown deepened.

"What's wrong? I thought the new pills were helping?"

They had been. Daehyun had had almost a week of good nights, of deep sleep. If he'd dreamt, he hadn't remembered anything upon waking. He'd started to feel almost human again--no, more than that. He'd started to feel like _Daehyun_ again.

He'd let himself get too comfortable.

"They were, but--they weren't enough last night. I saw--" He stopped himself, swallowing. His throat felt lined with sandpaper. Youngjae was disinfecting his hand, the sting distant and unimportant. He looked up as Daehyun stopped speaking.

"You saw what?" he prompted. Daehyun shook his head.

"Just. This guy I trained with back on Mato." 

"Another patient here?"

"I guess."

Suwoong had looked healthy enough to Daehyun. He'd still looked how Daehyun remembered him, enough so that he'd wondered if he was dreaming him up altogether. But they'd literally bumped into each other, and the other man had been solid enough. 

"Not the nicest reunion, huh?" Youngjae guessed. 

"He didn't recognize me," Daehyun said quietly. He was more hurt by this than he cared to admit--but then, Suwoong hadn't just been a classmate. He'd been one of Daehyun's best friends. But he'd looked right at Daehyun without really seeing him. The pilot looked as his hands now as Youngjae finished cleaning out the glass. Was he really here?

"Awkward," Youngjae said. His tone was brisk as ever, but his touch was very gentle. "What happened next?"

"Nothing." 

He'd returned to his room. He'd showered. He'd picked at his dinner. He'd decided to go to bed early and took two sleeping pills, same as always. 

"Uh huh. What happened between _nothing_ and this?" Youngjae said, motioning to the mirror bits scattered around them. 

"I couldn't sleep," Daehyun said. "Even with the pills, I couldn't sleep. They've been working so well, I just thought--one more wouldn't hurt."

They'd pulled him under, all right, but it hadn't been the pleasant oblivion he'd been just starting to get used to. Dreams swam darkly through his mind, ever more vivid. Thousands of people, wiped out by his hand, their final moments running on a loop. Or he was back in his cell, watching black water rise to meet him.

"You didn't." Youngjae sounded genuinely dismayed, and Daehyun almost felt guilty.

"I couldn't wake up," he said softly. 

Of course, at some point he had, but his legs hadn't worked quite right as he tried to get himself a glass of water. He'd been arrested by his slightly wavering reflection in the mirror over the sink. He could have sworn he could see through himself to the room behind him. 

_Was_ he really here?

"You thought a little room remodel would snap you out of it?" Youngjae guessed quietly. Daehyun gave a half shrug. 

"I was just. Checking." Even now, as Youngjae wrapped a bandage tightly around his hand, Daehyun wasn't sure he could trust himself. 

Then Youngjae pinched him, hard. He yelped and jerked away.

"You're awake now, I promise," Youngjae said. "You know those pills have a warning label for a reason, Dae. I'm not surprised you're totally out of it."

Daehyun ignored his tone. "How long will I feel this way?" he asked, a bit pleadingly. Youngjae's expression softened. 

"Probably at least a few more hours." He pushed himself to his feet. Daehyun's eyes were too heavy to follow. 

"Where are you going?" Youngjae's legs walked out of his sight and he could hear him rummaging around. 

"Nowhere. I'm just requesting someone bring some food and coffee." He was back after a beat with a small sonic broom he'd conjured from who knew where. He used it so clean the rest of the glass from the floor, then sat against the wall next to Daehyun, elbowing him lightly. "I'll keep you company 'til you feel like yourself again."

"What does _that_ feel like?" Daehyun wondered dryly, then smiled apologetically at the medic. "I mean thanks."

Youngjae just shrugged. "You feel like telling me about your nightmares?"

"Whatever happened to _I'm not your therapist_?"

Another shrug. "I didn't say I could help. But sometimes just saying the thing out loud feels kind of like you're putting it down, you know?"

This made sense, but also made Daehyun twitchy. It was an attractive idea, and he didn't quite trust it.

He found he trusted Youngjae, though. He never looked at Daehyun like something broken. Even now, he merely looked expectant. 

"Okay," he said finally. "But you first."

Youngjae rolled his eyes. "Me first what?"

Daehyun nodded to his nightstand and the pill bottles on top. "You take those pills, too. What kind of dreams are _you_ running away from?"

Youngjae didn't look surprised or particularly bothered by the question. He pursed his lips. "I was there when the NRA firebombed the capital," he said. His face doubled in Daehyun's vision and the pilot rapped his head smartly against the wall to wake himself up. Youngjae didn't notice; his eyes had gone distant. "I mean, I was on the edge of the city, so the fire didn't quite reach us there. My brother, though--" 

There was a knock at the door. Youngjae pushed himself up easily and went to retrieve the food while Daehyun tried to make sense of this. He'd seen the bombing on broadcast. The NRA had broken the stalemate with their attack on the capital city, after almost two years of increased tensions. Daehyun had enlisted the next day, one of thousands. That attack had been the true start of the war.

"C'mon, get something in your stomach, it'll help," Youngjae said, setting down a tray. Daehyun looked at it without really seeing it until Youngjae elbowed him again. "Trust me," he said.

Daehyun picked up the bowl of rice. "I'm sorry," he said. "About your brother."

Youngjae gave a convulsive shrug. "They couldn't get rescue ships in right away after the attack," he said. "I was there those first three days until they'd finished evacuating survivors."

"Is that why you became a medic?" He drank some coffee. Youngjae nodded. 

"Predictable, right? Anyway. The dreams aren't so great sometimes." He looked down at his lap, his throat working. Daehyun looked away to give him a minute. 

"I killed a lot of people," he told him after a beat. "Civilians. That's what I was in prison for. I flew point on an attack--they told us it was a military base, but it wasn't."

"How do you know?"

Daehyun shook his head slowly. He _knew_. He'd had a lot of time to think about it. The radiation sig had been all wrong for a military base. He'd known it at the time. He'd gone anyway. He hadn't even questioned it. 

"I just do."

"That's not such an easy thing to live with," Youngjae said after a beat. Daehyun shrugged, still looking at his hands. 

"I don't think it should be easy."

"You're right."

He looked over at that to find Youngjae watching him seriously. 

"You've got to find a way to do it, though," he continued. Daehyun nodded. He hadn't always thought so. There'd been a time in prison when all he wanted was for it to _stop_. But now, he found with some relief, that he wanted to live after all. 

"I'm not sure how."

"Me neither," Youngjae admitted. He nudged him. "While we're thinking about that, you know what you could do?"

"What."

"Eat your damn breakfast."

*

**Now**

*****

They pushed Daehyun's breakfast through a flap in the door. 

"Glop, my favorite," he said to no one, surveying the gray matter on the tray. The NRA's culinary arts had not improved since the last time he was with them. 

He set the tray on the end of his bed so he and the food could get used to each other's company. He looked around his cell for the umpteenth time. It was still empty, still hopeless.

"Oh god, it's too early to feel this sorry for yourself," he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. He'd been just barely staving off panic and despair ever since they took Yongguk away. Yes, the situation was bad. Yes, it was kind-of-sort-of-okay-literally his nightmare. But his friends were out there. Hell, the combined stubbornness of Youngjae and Himchan was enough to stop a fleet of warships in its tracks.

Plus there was Yongguk. This gave him _actual_ hope, that they'd taken Daehyun because of his history. Yongguk didn't have a record, and it wasn't wartime anymore. Maybe they'd let him go. 

He smiled a little at the thought. If the NRA let Yongguk go, he knew, they'd live to regret it.

*****

Jin had already bled through the cloth pressed to his face, though he barely seemed to notice. He and Neck Tattoo stood a short distance away from the trio, conferring in low tones. 

"Can we trust him?" Yongguk asked Jongup. 

"No," he said instantly. "He's already lying. When he pulled Albatross onboard he told me he never found our old ship after we were separated three years ago."

"So?" Himchan prompted, not looking away from Jin, who glared right back from across the bay.

"So he's using the Jackdaw cloaking tech on this ship," Jongup said grimly. "One way or another, he's seen them again."

 The significance of this wasn't lost on Himchan. Of course it was possible Jin had salvaged the tech off some random Jackdaw vessel, the same way Jongup had. But if he'd found their original ship, there was a chance he he knew what had happened to Jongup's mother. 

As if sensing this thought, Jongup glanced at him. There was something tightly hopeful in his face, and Himchan really wished he wasn't still wearing the Sentinel armor so he could touch him. 

"We'll keep that in mind as we negotiate," he said. Jongup gave him a jerky nod and a tiny smile. Yongguk nodded darkly as Jin returned to them, handing off his bloodied rag to Neck Tattoo, who stared at it in a _what the fuck am I supposed to do with this?_ kind of way.

"I've decided not to just kill you all," Jin announced. "You two can thank the runt here for that." He nodded at Jongup, who just glared stonily back. Himchan was very tempted to step between them. He stopped himself. Jongup could take care of himself--besides which, they didn't need Jin figuring out what they were to each other.

"Once we're away from the station, you can drop us off, then," Yongguk said. Jin laughed.

"Nice try. No; in exchange for your lives, you're going to answer my questions, starting with this one." He turned to Himchan and his face darkened. He hadn't _really_ forgotten the hit, then. "If you're not the Sentinel, and Sentinels are human...where's the guy who came with that armor you're wearing?"

Himchan and Yongguk exchanged a quick look. It was one thing to let Jin see the tech, but it was something else entirely to introduce him to Zelo, especially in the state he was in. 

God. Himchan really hoped Youngjae could do something. It didn't take a doctor to see Zelo was deteriorating. And the way those Sentinels had backed down in front of him...well. Himchan wasn't sure whether to be disturbed or--wait, no, he was pretty sure disturbed was the correct response.

"The NRA has one of my men," Yongguk said. "Help us get him back and we'll answer all your questions. The intel will be worth your while, believe me."

Jin nodded. "Sure, because if there's one thing our relationship has going for it, it's an abundance of trust." He motioned to Jongup. "C'mon, runt, let's go."

Himchan took half a step in front of him before he could stop himself. 

"Down, boy," Jin admonished him. "Look, you assholes are asking us to go out on _quite_ the limb for you, so here's the deal. We already helped you get away from the NRA security--we won't be able to use this ship again to do business with them, so that's inconvenient and you owe me for that. While we do our ship swap, _you_ all stay here and Moon's with me."

"Fuck that," Himchan snapped. Jin rolled his eyes.

"I know the kind of damage Moon Jongup can do in a hangar bay. Hell, I taught most of it to him myself. He stays where I can see him, and he'll answer my questions away from you fucking guard dogs. If I decide there's enough in it for me, I'll help you get your boy back."

In a single swift movement he pulled out a second blaster and pressed it to Himchan's forehead. Yongguk took a step towards them but Jongup got there first, knocking Jin's hand away. 

"Were you literally hiding that thing up your ass?" Himchan asked, trying to work out where the weapon had come from. 

No one paid him any mind.

"Let's go," Jongup told Jin tersely.

"Jongup--" Himchan started, but the mechanic gave him a fierce look and he subsided, grinding his teeth and wishing he'd hit Jin twice when he had the chance. 

The ex-Jackdaw SS-or-whatever-the-fuck-he-was-now gave Himchan and Yongguk a cheery wave as he led Jongup and Neck Tattoo out of the bay. 

"Sit tight," he called, and they were gone.

Himchan rounded on Yongguk. "Is it me, or is this really not our day?" 

Yongguk just shook his head wearily and together they trudged back to Albatross. Yongguk stopped dead at the top of the ramp and Himchan almost walked right into him.

"Youngjae, what the hell?" Yongguk demanded. 

"Get out of my light," Youngjae snapped. They stepped aside, staring. Zelo was laid out on the bench, the back of his neck--oh, gross--peeled open. Himchan could see a red blinking from inside. "I've almost got it," Youngjae continued. "Zelo, how's your pain block?"

"Fine," Zelo said through gritted teeth. 

"Is this the best place to be doing this?" Himchan had to ask. 

"Beggars can't be choosers. Is Jongup okay?" Youngjae asked without turning around. 

"I'm--not exactly sure how to answer that," Himchan said, pulling a face at Yongguk, who just shrugged.

Youngjae didn't seem to be paying attention, for some reason all distracted by the surgery he was performing. "I think I've got it, one second--"

Zelo let out a gasp and there was a small squelching sound Himchan was pretty sure would ring through his nightmares forever after, thank you so much for that, Youngjae. Then the medic was lifting a small chip from Zelo's neck. 

"Here," Himchan said, holding out a thankfully-still-gloved hand. Youngjae dropped the chip into it and Himchan looked around for somewhere to put it to give to Jongup. He'd appreciate this gift way more than flowers. 

"How do you feel?" Youngjae asked. "Zelo?"

Himchan's stomach dropped as he saw Zelo's eyes fluttering. His expression had gone slack and blank. Youngjae swore. "I have to stitch him up, pass me--yeah." Yongguk crouched beside him and passed him his tools. Himchan could only watch helplessly from the side, training his eyes on Zelo's face. He didn't even notice himself muttering, "Come on, kid, come back," over and over again as Youngjae finished patching the wound. 

"He's--" Himchan started as Zelo's eyes fluttered back open. Youngjae didn't stop moving smoothly and efficiently, though his shoulders were so tense Himchan could practically feel it in his teeth. 

"Zelo? You back with me?" Youngjae asked. He finished the last stitch and leaned back so he could see the younger man's face. 

There was a breathless pause and then--"Mm. Ow," Zelo said. 

"' ** _Don't worry about numbing it_** _',_ he said. ' ** _I'm all enhanced and can handle anything_** _',_ he said," Youngjae said, a touch of hysteria to his voice. Yongguk put a hand on his shoulder and the medic fell silent, leaning close to Zelo. For an absurd moment, Himchan thought he was about to kiss him. Instead, he raised a hand in front of Zelo's face.

"How many fingers?"

"You...still have all five."

Youngjae sat back on his heels, his bloodied hands resting palm-up on his knees. 

"Thank god that sense of humor's still intact," he said. There was a slight tremor to his voice.

Zelo pushed himself to his knees and wavered for a beat before steadying.  He lifted a hand to the back of his neck, but Youngjae grabbed it before it could get there.

"Don't _touch_ it," he admonished. "How do you feel?"

Zelo looked very uncertain.

"Quiet," he said finally. "It stopped."

"You can't hear their transmissions anymore?" Youngjae said. Zelo shook his head. 

"It's _quiet_ ," he said again. "I'm cut off my from my database and scanners and...everything." He looked almost relieved, but his voice was laced with anxiety. Himchan couldn't blame him. Despite his missing memories, Zelo had always been able to pull facts and figures from his processor, had been able to detect and calculate things the rest of them couldn't. Now he was really no better than human.

It was one way to hide him from Jin, anyway--though Himchan recalled the way the Sentinels on the base had stepped back to let them through. They might have just lost whatever mysterious advantage they'd had.

Zelo still hadn't let go of Youngjae's hand, who still hadn't let go of his hand right back. This was venturing into the realm of things Himchan might eventually have to notice. 

But first things first.

"Okay, look, we need to figure out what we're going to do," he said. Youngjae turned to him, frowning. 

"Oh, right, _what's_ happening?" he asked.

They filled him and Zelo in. 

"Sounds like you broke his nose," Youngjae told Himchan. He rolled his eyes. 

"That's all you have to say?"

Youngjae blinked a few times. "Well done?"

Yongguk waved a hand as though clearing all the unessential talk from the room. 

"Can Jongup make a deal with him?" he asked Himchan. 

"Can--?" Himchan shook his head. "Sure, Bbang. He'll do great, especially considering the guy _tortured him as a child_."

Yongguk looked chastened. "I just--I'm sorry. We just need to be able to give this guy something; he clearly has resources that could help."

"So we'll give him the intel, what else do we have?" Himchan snapped, finally sliding the Sentinel gloves off an setting to work on the torso. 

"You're wearing it," Yongguk said. Himchan stopped, staring. 

"You want to give _Sentinel tech_ to _that_ guy? Are you out of your mind?"

"If it gets us his help--"

"Uh. Guys?" Youngjae spoke up. His eyes darted from Yongguk to Himchan and back again as they turned to him. "You're talking like Zelo's armor is ours to bargain with. It's not." He looked at Zelo. "What do _you_ think, Z?"

Zelo looked at him, wide-eyed. Himchan got the impression he was still listening for transmissions he could no longer hear. It took him a long beat to answer. 

"It would be dangerous to hand the armor over to the SS."

Himchan felt a warm rush of relief, but Yongguk let out a frustrated huff, turning on his heel and storming out of the shuttle. Zelo winced. 

"You're fine," Himchan told him hastily. "Both of you, just--sit tight."

He followed Yongguk out of Albatross. His friend had a head start and Himchan had to jog to catch up with him in Cheonsa's hangar bay.

"Bbang, come on--"

Yongguk rounded on him, his face dark and furious. "Do you even want to get Daehyun back?"

Himchan's temper was a flare of heat in his chest. "You don't have to ask me that."

Yongguk turned away. "Apparently I do."

Himchan grabbed his arm and pulled him back. " _Bbang_. I need you to think right now. You're supposed to be the rational one, remember?" He tried to smile. He knew if he gave into his anger right now, he'd push Yongguk further into his own and they'd wind up at loggerheads, wasting time arguing when in truth they both wanted the same thing. 

Yongguk shook him off but stopped trying to walk away. "You didn't see him," he said, his voice low and despairing. "Himchan, you didn't see him. He was so scared, I've never seen him like that before."

Himchan could only imagine, and the thought of Daehyun now--alone and terrified out of his mind--made him want to hit things. 

"We're getting him back," he said bracingly. "I'm just saying we can't screw over the whole system to do it. He'd never want us to do that for him and you know it."

"Let him be mad at me," Yongguk said stubbornly. Himchan wanted to shake him. 

"What you're talking about is some last resort shit, all right?" he said. "Just knowing the Sentinels are human should be enough for Jin, for now."

"He'll want more."

"We'll worry about that later." He could see him wavering. He sighed, grasped his shoulder. "We'll figure something out; we always do."

"We've been _lucky_ ," Yongguk muttered. Himchan nodded. 

"Let's hope we are this time," he said.

*

Youngjae needed to be two places at once. He kind of wanted to be part of Yongguk and Himchan's argument, but he wasn't about to leave Zelo, who still looked shaky.

"You _sure_ you're all right?" he prodded. Zelo nodded slowly. He had his shirt balled up in his hands, but he'd stopped short of pulling it on. Youngjae kind of wished he would.

(Youngjae kind of hoped he wouldn't.)

"It feels strange," Zelo said. "I have new..." He trailed off. Youngjae sat up straighter, turning to him more fully on the bench. 

"New memories?" he prompted hopefully. _Please, let something go right today_ , he thought. He'd take anything, honestly, any small sign that removing the implant had been the right thing to do, that he hadn't screwed things up for Zelo even more. 

Zelo nodded, slowly, still staring off into the middle distance. Youngjae put a hand on his knee, wanting to gently pull him back. Zelo took his hand and held it almost absent-mindedly, and Youngjae's heart did a leaping thing, which he ignored because _priorities._

"New memories," Zelo echoed, and swallowed hard. Youngjae watched his Adam's apple bob. "...lots."

"Like what?" Youngjae demanded. Zelo finally looked at him. His eyes were strangely light. 

"For one thing," he said, "I think my name is Junhong."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so we'll be getting more into THAT next time. :)
> 
> As always, I'm sorry for taking so long! There's been a series of small disasters lately. I'm hoping they're done for now. But thanks for reading!!


	15. Chapter 15

"Sit," Jin said. Jongup sat.

"Relax," Jin said. (Actually, it was more like " _Relaaaaax_ ," but in any case Jongup did not think this was in his best interests at the moment so he declined.)

"Drink?" Jin said.

He'd led Jongup to a mess hall three times as big as Cheonsa's that smelled strongly of boiled onions. It was empty save for a trio of uniformed SS in one corner who looked over with practiced disinterest when Jongup was pushed in at lazy gunpoint. Two of them were as heavily inked as Neck Tattoo. He was going to need a new nickname.

Jongup sniffed at the drink Jin passed him and pushed it away.

"Water?" he asked. Jin motioned to Neck Tattoo, who pushed back from the table and retreated to the kitchen.

"Stop looking like you're in an interrogation cell, Moon," Jin said, downing the drink he'd poured him. "You know we're way past that."

Neck Tattoo returned with a cloudy glass. Jongup drank it down. It was cold, at least, and cleared some of the dust from his mind. He wondered at the odds of getting a cup of coffee. 

Jin waved Neck Tattoo away. "So?" he prompted.

"So what?"

"So how in the _hell_ did you get your hands on that NRA tech?" Jin leaned back in his seat, hands folded over his stomach. His eyes were shrewd over his swollen nose as he watched Jongup, and the mechanic recalled the countless times growing up when Jin had looked at him the same way. It had always made his muscles tense and his skin prickle in awareness. He'd never known if the older man's attention would result in some small kindness or a sudden beating. It had improved after Jongup joined the Jackdaws, but only somewhat.

"You first," Jongup said. Jin raised an eyebrow. "The cloaking tech," Jongup clarified. "You wouldn't know how to reverse engineer it yourself. You found our ship, didn't you."

He said this carelessly, as though the answer didn't mean anything--or _everything_ \--to him. He'd pushed the hope of ever seeing his mother again down so far that it was a surprise to find it now, alive and well in his chest.

Jin poured another drink and pushed the cup across the table. This time Jongup drank it, grimacing. It was even fouler than rotgut.

"It took a while," Jin admitted, and the hope took light under Jongup's skin. "You should've seen the Boss's face when I finally tracked them down." He grinned at the memory. Jongup's hand clenched convulsively around his cup. 

_Daehyun_ , he reminded himself. _You need to make a deal to get help for Daehyun._

_So I need all the information I can get,_ he shot back. 

"So, what, Woo just handed you their tech and let you go freelance?" Jongup asked doubtfully. He'd never known anyone to willingly leave the Jackdaws, and Jin had always been a true believer in the asshole cause.

Jin's lips twisted in a smirk. 

"Let's just say he's my sponsor," he said. Jongup blinked.

"You're _still_ a Jackdaw," he realized. Jin shrugged and glanced at the other SS in the far corner of the room. 

"Everyone here's in it for themselves," he said. "No one cares where you're sending your share of bounty. Especially when you get some damned useful tech back in return."

Jongup tried to digest all this. It made sense; having someone in the SS got the Jackdaws intel they couldn't get their hands on otherwise. Who knew they'd go and discover subtlety after Jongup left?

"So you report to them regularly," he said, thinking fast. Jin's eyes narrowed.

"You looking for payback, Runt?"

Jongup finished his drink, barely registering the burn this time. "Just asking."

"I'll do the _just asking_ for now. How'd _you_ get your hands on our cloak tech?"

_There_ , a small voice in Jongup breathed. Thank you, small voice. There was something that might interest Jin almost as much as illicit NRA tech.

He told him about the drifting Jackdaw freighter, the traces of Sentinel weapons scorched on the walls. 

"We took their ship's log but haven't had a chance to decrypt it yet," he said. "It'll probably make for interesting reading."

"Probably," Jin agreed. "Why don't you let me take it off your hands. I'll get it decrypted in no time."

"You have to share what you find," Jongup said. Jin waved a hand: _yeah, yeah,_ and Jongup relaxed a bit. He remembered how Jin looked when he was feeling generous. "I need to talk to my people," he added carefully. "I don't know everything that went down on that station. They might know more that will help."

"Right, let me just send you back to your boyfriend," Jin snorted. Jongup stiffened and Jin gave him a lazy grin. "Was that supposed to be a secret?" he asked, touching the tip of his blooming nose with his middle finger. 

Jongup kept his face still, careful not to show how badly this shook him. Jin might be interested in working with them for now, but Jongup knew his moods to be fleeting and changeable, and there was no one more dangerous to know what Himchan meant to him.

"Just let me get the information and the ship's log," he said evenly. "We're not stupid enough to piss off the SS _and_ the NRA _and_ the Jackdaws all in one day."

Jin smirked. "I'm not so sure about that."

*

Youngjae was staring. Zelo--Junhong-- _Zelo_ \--barely noticed.

"What's the first thing you remember?" the medic asked. Zelhong laughed. 

" _I_ don't know, it's a mess in here," he said, pointing to his head with his free hand.

His other hand was still holding Youngjae's. He wondered if he should let go, since this was their first time really meeting and all. Zelo Zelhong Zunhong Junhong. He laughed again. 

"Hey." Youngjae slid off the bench and came to crouch between his knees, looking up at him. The worried look on his face cut his laughter off cleanly. "Do you--should I call you Junhong now?" His brows were furrowed over his eyes and his eyes were really pretty, how had Junlo not noticed before? Or maybe he just hadn't had the word "pretty" in his repertoire.

"I don't know," he said. "Try it, maybe?"

"Okay...Junhong," Youngjae said, then raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Did you hear how naturally I did that?"

Zelhongo smiled because he knew Youngjae wanted him to, but his chest felt hollow. 

"I don't know," he admitted. "It doesn't feel exactly right."

"Well you're still sorting through everything," Youngjae said. "Why don't we stick with Zelo for now and you let me know when I should switch, okay?"

Zelo nodded, relieved. 

"Okay..." Youngjae said again, slowly, drawing it out. Zelo looked at his lips, which were also pretty. It was amazing the things you could notice about people when you weren't recording their every vital sign. Without his scanners running constant background sweeps on everyone and everything, he felt like he was seeing for the first time.

Youngjae returned to the bench, folding one knee under himself to face him. He still looked worried--that Zelo was just going crazy, probably. 

"So tell me some stuff you remember. In any order it comes to you," he said.

Zelo tried to pick one. It felt a bit like trying to pick a single wire out of a tangle of hundreds: impossible to get just one without dragging the whole mess with it.

_Junhong-ah, would it kill you to keep this room clean_? A man's face, exasperated and well-loved.

"I remember my dad," he said softly. He closed his eyes, trying to tug the thread free. A rush of memories came with it, things both important and insignificant. "He had freckles on his wrists." He could see him unbuttoning his shirt cuffs, rolling crisp white sleeves up to reveal sturdy forearms. His neat swivel to hang his jacket next to the door.

The jacket had a red insignia on the sleeve.

Zelo opened his eyes. 

"He was a soldier in the NRA," he said.

Youngjae's face closed off so abruptly Zelo could nearly hear the snap. 

"...Oh," he said neutrally. 

Zelo couldn't even be properly bothered by this, because memories were basically crawling all over each other trying to get his attention. There didn't seem to be a logical order. He recalled coffee mugs left on every surface, the sharp smell of aftershave, the way his--Junhong's--suit had been too tight across the shoulders and he was distracted all the way through the funeral.

Oh.

He found he could pause now, could pick out a single memory and turn it over. 

"He's dead," he said. "Killed in the war by a Matoki strike force."

He and Youngjae looked at each other. For a beat, Youngjae's face was blank, then he softened. 

"I'm sorry."

Junhong--no, Zelo--nodded. "We were evacuated just before our home station was attacked. It was just me and my mom by then, my--" He stopped as images of the rest of his... _family_...appeared in his mind. His mother and his _brother_. "Oh," he muttered, massaging his temples with his fingertips. 

"Z?" Youngjae scooted closer so their knees bumped. 

"Just--there's so much," he muttered. "You've had this many memories your whole life? How do you get anything done?"

Youngjae laughed a little and Zelo finally looked at him. 

"It wasn't just as hard to focus when you could pull up _all human knowledge_ from your processor?" Youngjae said. Zelo shook his head.

"I had to go looking for what I needed," he said. "If I, like...asked? I'd know what I needed. But this is all just...here."

"It'll get easier," Youngjae said. "I swear we aren't all just constantly being bombarded by our memories--mostly we're focused on what we're doing. Or wishing we were doing something else or whatever."

Zelo nodded slowly. He was pretty sure he could feel the memories sloshing around in his head as he moved. But he found he could zero in on what he wanted now. 

He looked at Youngjae. 

"I remember what the Sentinels were supposed to be for."

*

**Rewind**

**_*_ **

Junhong skirted another group of kids. They were dressed for school in drab gray uniforms, shapeless and sad-looking, inexpertly sewn from scraps. 

"Move it, urchins," Junseo told a few stragglers, miming a kick in their direction. The boy and girl took in his uniform, wide-eyed, then sped off giggling as he bared his teeth at them in a mock growl.

"So much for the dignity of the military," Junhong said, rolling his eyes. His brother shrugged cheerfully and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He took after their father and had advanced quickly through the ranks of the NRA. But here on the refugee station, away from his fellow soldiers, Junseo had reverted to his customary relaxed ways. Junhong had tried not to notice the way his smile seemed to take a beat to become _real_ after he put it on. 

"Yeah, yeah. What were we talking about?" 

"You were going to find a place for us on a normal station," Junhong reminded him. "We shouldn't be here; we're taking spots from people who really need them."

Junseo frowned. "Our home was destroyed, Junnie. You and Umma were lucky to make it out of there. You think we're different from these other families?"

He motioned around. They were making their way down one of the endless rows of shelters housing countless displaced families just like theirs.

Junhong and their mother had arrived at the refugee station almost a month before, and Junhong's head was still constantly ringing from the noise of the place, the other voices that never fully quieted, even during the night cycle. He'd grown used to the smells of other people's cooking, to waiting in line for the showers, to knowing far too much of his neighbors' business.

It stung to hear the slight rebuke in his hyung's voice. Did Junseo think Junhong thought they were too _good_ to be here? That wasn't what he'd meant at all.

"I just mean--if we could get a small place somewhere--"

Junseo sighed. "You know if I could I'd get you moved somewhere nicer. I know this place is--I know it's been rough. But people have been displaced all through the sector. There's nowhere to _go_ , Jun."

"I know," Junhong said quickly. "Never mind." 

Junseo looked at him sideways. "You must be bored out of your mind here."

Junhong shrugged. "More like useless," he muttered. Too old for the refugee school their mother had set up, too young and inexperienced to help with anything important. 

And okay, fine: he was bored. He missed school. He'd been in all the advanced classes and things had finally been getting interesting. He missed his friends, and Minhyuk, who was technically here too, but there was nowhere for them to be _alone_ anymore, and--

Junseo cuffed his head lightly. "C'mon, it's not _that_ bad, is it?"

Junhong glared at him. "How would you know?"

He knew he was being unfair and probably bratty. Junseo was a soldier, like their father had been. He was out there actually fighting the enemy, like their father had.

He could be killed, like their father. Junhong had to be the most entitled jerk in the universe to complain.

They reached the end of the residential quarter and Junseo took Junhong by the shoulder, steering him to a quiet corner.

"Okay, listen," he said. "I might actually know something you could do. I know you always say you don't want to enlist, and I get that. Umma doesn't want you anywhere near the fighting, anyway. But we're starting a new project soon that's going to need recruits. It'd be a lot of physical labor, rebuilding and stuff, but there'd be some tech work too--"

"That's fine," Junhong said eagerly. "Just--anything." He frowned, though. "They aren't afraid if we start rebuilding now the Matoki will just come blow everything up like they always do?"

"Between you and me, there's talk the war will be over soon."

Junhong made an incredulous sound. The war had already lasted forever. He couldn't even imagine what _over_ would look like. 

"Yeah, I know," Junseo said. "But there are plans in the works--look, I can't talk about it, I shouldn't even be telling you this much. But people are starting to talk about what comes next, and we're gonna need people who can work. Think you're up for it?"

"Hyung, I was lying before, I'm _so_ bored," Junhong said, resting his head on his brother's shoulder until Junseo shoved him off, laughing.

"Well, good. I can put your name in for the first round of training. You can't _tell_ anyone, though, right? They haven't officially announced the program yet, and it uses a ton of new tech. I haven't seen it all but it's some impressive shit. We can't have the Matoki hearing chatter about it over the wireless, so don't go telling your _boyfriend_ or whatever--"

Junhong punched his shoulder. "How do you even know about it if it's so top secret?"

Junseo grinned. "That's classified. But I'm _pretty_ important, so--"

Junhong made noisy gagging sounds. "Ugh, forget it, I don't want to know."

It was true that their father's position had started Junseo a few rungs higher up the ladder than most. Junhong still had trouble reconciling the brother he'd shared a room with for years with this soldier working on some sort of classified program for top NRA brass.

But something that could help end the war?

"I'll do it," he said.

*****

**Now**

*****

"Your--brother," Youngjae said haltingly. "He helped make the Sen--?"

"No, I--don't think so," Jun--Zelo--said. He felt the urge to defend Junseo, to defend his father, and for the first time he realized what it really meant that Youngjae was Matoki.

He had a surge of mistrust, a distant anger. His father was _dead_ because of Youngjae's people. They'd--

_No_. He made himself stop, made himself look at Youngjae. He was his friend. And he'd lost people, too. He took a deep breath.

"I never knew exactly what Junseo was working on. But the Sentinels weren't supposed to be--what they turned into. There were supposed to be a few different specialties," he said. "The rebuilding teams, for one. Then there was going to be another group trained to find survivors stranded after attacks. Some of the suits are modified space suits, and those Sentinels would go on rescue missions."

"Jongup said your suit wouldn't protect you in open space."

"Mine's just radiation-resistant. I aced all the tech classes I ever took, so they were training me in salvage and repair."

"Salvage and repair," Youngjae repeated. He shook his head. "And _rescue._ I guess they changed the Sentinel mission statement at some point, huh?"

"It was the chip," Zelo said. "They said it would help us interface with the suits so we could use them better."

He'd been so stupid he hadn't thought anything of it. Hadn't questioned the directive that kept him from contacting his family at all during training. Hell, he'd probably smiled up at the technicians just before they put the chip in his head to shut down his mind and block out his memories.

"Those fucks," Youngjae said sharply, but when Zelo looked at him again he only looked worried. "I'm sorry."

He gave a convulsive shrug. 

"I was part of the first wave. The others in my group were mostly kids like me who'd tested well, or a few soldiers who'd been injured but still wanted to help. I don't--know where the rest of the Sentinels came from." The few dozen faces in his memory couldn't begin to explain the vast horde he knew existed now.

He couldn't get his brother out of his mind. Junseo had been so _proud_ the day he'd left for training. Had he known what he was sending Junhong into? Had he known what the Sentinels would become? Was he even still alive?

"I don't--know what to say," Youngjae admitted. 

He thought it over. He felt steadier now, felt less like the memories would simply wash him away. He could separate them out if he wanted to: His father's funeral. The first time he'd kissed Minhyuk. The countless hours he'd spent skating at the rec center with Junseo when they were little.

These felt more like _his_ memories now, less like he was peering at them over someone else's shoulder. He remembered how it had felt to have a family. He remembered how it felt to have an _identity._

And now he knew how it felt to lose it. 

Something else burned hot in his chest. How many people had the NRA done this to? How many people had they simply erased? 

How many could he help bring back?

"You'd better start calling me Junhong, I guess," he said.

*

Himchan's head was killing him, but of course that was the least of his problems. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and had another sip of coffee, surveying the materials he'd gathered on the mess table. He had Cheonsa's weapons inventory, a set of incomplete prison station plans, and Zelo's helmet.

With their powers combined, surely breaking Daehyun out of a high-security NRA station would be no problem.

"Is there enough coffee for me?"

He whipped around to find Jongup in the doorway. Before Himchan could do more than put down his mug, the mechanic had crossed the room and his hands were in Himchan's hair and he was kissing him with surprising ferocity.

Himchan sent all his thanks to the gods of not-wearing-Sentinel-armor-anymore as one of his hands found Jongup's jaw and the other slid up his back. It felt like it had been a month, not less than a day, since he'd touched him, and he finally allowed himself a moment's relief that he was really okay.

They parted for that stupid oxygen thing. 

"Hi," Jongup mumbled against his lips. 

"Hi." Himchan pulled back slightly to look him up and down. He'd been trying very hard not to think of Jongup alone with Jin, both because he knew he could handle himself and because Daehyun was his main priority. But as he took in the drawn look on Jongup's face, he wasn't sure he'd be able to let him out of his sight again.

"What's happening?" he asked quietly, drawing him flush against himself. "Jin let you go?"

"To get the ship's log from that Jackdaw freighter," Jongup explained. He traced Himchan's collar bone with the side of his thumb. "He'll decrypt it for us--well, for them. Turns out he's not so much an _ex-_ Jackdaw as he's a current one using the SS to get information and credits for our old boss."

"You called that one," Himchan sighed. "Does that mean--did he say anything about--?"

Jongup shook his head slowly. "I don't know. I was--afraid to ask."

Fuck. Someone give Himchan a world to destroy or something. He was positive Jin knew the desperate question on the tip of Jongup's tongue, and was holding back for his own amusement.

"He already figured out about _us_ ," Jongup said, scowling, jutting his chin towards Himchan's lips. Himchan winced. 

"My fault."

Jongup just shrugged and dropped a quick kiss on the corner of his jaw. "Where is everyone?"

Himchan ticked them off on his fingers. "Yongguk needed some space so he's probably off playing with his NRA voodoo dolls. Zelo and Youngjae are still on Albatross, doing whatever post-op stuff, trying to make sure Z's brain didn't get too scrambled--" 

At Jongup's questioning look, he explained what he and Yongguk had walked in on. "Which reminds me--" He released Jongup to search through the mess on the table. "I got you someth--ah!" He came up triumphant with the chip, which he handed over. 

Jongup's face lit up. "You shouldn't have!" 

"I mean, if you want to get technical about it, Youngjae did the heavy lifting. And I guess Zelo, too."

"Still." Jongup kissed his cheek quickly, though clearly the chip had the bulk of his attention. That was fine. Himchan had skills some stupid chip couldn't even _dream_ of possessing. "Is Zelo okay?"

"I think so." His doubt must have been clear, because Jongup looked up. 

"Hyung, what happened on the station?" 

Himchan told him about what the guards had said about the malfunctioning Sentinels, about Zelo's collapse in the hallway, the way the other Sentinels had backed down before him and let them go. Jongup's eyes were wide when he finished. 

"So I'm just afraid with Zelo all cut off from his processor now, we don't even have that small ominous advantage," Himchan fretted. Jongup pursed his lips thoughtfully and rolled the chip between his fingers.

"This might explain whatever went down on that Jackdaw freighter. We need that log decrypted. This might actually be enough to make Jin help us get Dae back. I should--" He began reluctantly to pull away but Himchan caught his sleeve.

"You wanted coffee," he reminded him. Also, "And I'd rather you look at the chip here than anywhere near Jin. I'll take him the log."

" _No_ ," Jongup said immediately. "You just want to hit him again, and he _will_ shoot you, hyung."

"I'll play nice," Himchan promised. "Anyway, you've got his curiosity piqued now; I'm betting he'll think twice before shooting me." 

Jongup was shaking his head stubbornly. "Himchan--"

The creak of the door distracted him and they turned to see Yongguk slipping in. His hair was wet and dripping onto the shoulders of his fresh t-shirt. Good. A shower was good. Now if Himchan could just convince him to eat something--

"Coffee, Bbang?" he offered, testing the waters. He poured out cups for both of them, avoiding Jongup's glare. Yongguk accepted his mug with a small nod and a twist of the lips no one but Himchan would have recognized for the apology it was.

"It's a bad idea," Jongup said. "Yongguk hyung, tell him--Jin'll pretend he doesn't care, but he'll get you back for hitting him. He's...patient, sometimes."

Himchan's stomach knotted. He didn't want to imagine the memories that must be behind these words. 

"He'll be patient a while longer, then," he said firmly. He had no doubt Jongup was right and Himchan would pay for his impulsive strike. But he didn't give a shit. Jongup wouldn't be alone with the Jackdaw again if he could help it. He glanced at Yongguk, knowing he'd understand. 

His friend was frowning lightly. "Jonguppie's right, Himchan. I'm not risking anyone else." Himchan opened his mouth to protest, but Yongguk spoke first. "I'm coming with you."

Oh. Well, then.

The captain pulled his radio out of his pocket. "We'll keep it on," he told Jongup. "If it sounds like Jin's trying anything, blast a hole in his ship."

Himchan smiled at Jongup. 

"See? Insurance."

"I don't give a shit about insurance if he blows your heads off." But he looked resigned. Himchan glanced at Yongguk. 

"Eat something before we go."

*

Zelo-- _Junhong_ \--put his shirt back on. Too bad. Youngjae kind of wanted the distraction. 'Cause all this? It was a lot. 

He found himself pacing the short length of the shuttle.

He needed all his energy focused on getting Daehyun back. It had been almost a day since their last sparring match, and he was going through withdrawal. He wasn't quite _right_ without Daehyun there, as fucking humiliating a thing as this was to admit to himself (and no one else _ever_ ). 

But he also needed all his energy focused on Ze--Junhong. On _Junhong_ , a stranger he'd nonetheless spent the past month getting to know and getting to _like_ and actually no, let's all just back right the fuck off _that_ line of thinking. 

He turned back to him. Junhong had his head in his hands and was massaging his temples lightly. 

Youngjae wondered if Jongup had had a look at his chip yet. He wondered if there was anything on it they could use to help Daehyun.

He immediately felt guilty. He wasn't sure how he could be contemplating using Junhong's trauma for their _advantage_ while he was going through something so shattering. 

He wasn't sure how he could be so worried about Junhong while his best friend was living out his worst nightmare.

"Ze--sorry--Junhong?" he stuttered. That shift was going to take a second to get used to. 

Junhong looked up. 

"Let's go back to Cheonsa," Youngjae said. It was something to do, anyway. "I've got--more equipment over there to check you out, make sure you're all right." Hey, it was even true!

Junhong stood up. "I feel fine," he said. "I'm good. We can see if Jongup's had a chance to look at my chip yet. If he hasn't, I can." 

It was nothing. Youngjae was being stupid or paranoid or just plain old _weirded out_ over here, but he'd swear Junhong _stood_ differently than Zelo. He was slouchier, maybe, not so used to standing at-attention in the Sentinel suit. He was also kind of scowly, which was new. Youngjae was so used to him being...blinkier. 

He immediately felt guilty again. After going through impromptu surgery and then being slapped around by a sudden burst of _all his memories ever_ , Junhong was entitled to be in a bit of a mood. 

"You should eat something," he told him abruptly. "And--we should replenish your fluids and stuff."

Junhong tilted his head and his frown faded into a faint smile. 

" _Replenish my fluids?"_

Youngjae didn't miss his mocking undertone. "You just had _surgery_ ," he reminded him. "You must be...parched..." There was some medical foundation to this, he was certain. His mind was suddenly strangely blank was all, as Junhong's small smile grew into a smirk. 

At least it was a _fond_ smirk. And at least his dimple was still there.

Okay, there definitely was no medical foundation to the idea that someone's dimple could appear or disappear based on their _memories_ , like get a grip, Youngjae--

"Hey." Junhong was closer now. When had that happened. The smirk-dimple combo was gone. He looked worried. And somehow older than he had before. "You okay?"

"Sure," Youngjae said automatically. "Sorry, I'm--"

"Parched?" Junhong supplied when Youngjae's brain went unhelpfully blank again. He relaxed a little. 

"That, yeah."

"C'mon." Junhong slid his hand from the crook of Youngjae's elbow and down to his wrist, which he looped his hand around. Youngjae watched this progression with detached interest before lifting his eyes to Junhong's face. 

They were supposed to go to Cheonsa, but neither moved. Youngjae wanted to fill the silence, but he also wanted to focus on the way Junhong's thumb brushed against his pulse point. 

Tired. He was very tired; no wonder everything felt strange.

Junhong's eyes sharpened suddenly. Youngjae straightened up.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Junhong started to smile. "Just remembering--still--" He rolled his eyes a little, another not-Zelo move. "I never liked to sleep much when I was a kid, I'd always sneak out of bed...I hid behind the couch; I just wanted to hear my parents' voices, you know?" He sounded wistful and it his Youngjae anew how much it meant that he remembered his _parents_. He could only nod. 

"Yeah, well, I fell asleep back there most nights. But sometimes I'd get to hear my dad talk about work for a while before I did, and--" He trailed off, his gaze distant. 

"And what?" Youngjae prompted. Junhong looked at him, and _grinned_. Whoa. Definitely not Zelo.

"I know how we're getting Daehyun out," he said.


	16. Chapter 16

Daehyun hadn't expected to have a cellmate.

Solitude had basically defined his last stint in prison (well, that and nightmares of innocent people he might have killed, a nearly lethal dose of self-hatred, and some impressively terrible food), so this was...different.

"Stop staring, Newbie. It's unnerving."

Daehyun was of the opinion that the way the man on the opposite bunk was resting with his arms in an X across his chest like a corpse was _more_ unnerving, but he'd save that argument for Day 2. He flung his things--a towel so stiff it had to be made of cardboard and a spare gray prison uniform to match the one they'd already put him in--onto his new bed.

The other prisoner was tall--possibly even taller than Zelo--and heavyset in a way that made it hard to determine his age. Daehyun wondered if he could take him in a fight ahahaha just kidding. (Youngjae would want him to keep his sense of humor. He was trying.)

"You'd better not snore," the man said, cracking an eyelid to glare at him.

Considering the shitty odds that he'd get any sleep here at all, Daehyun felt safe enough saying, "I don't. I'm Daehyun, by the way."

"Good," Corpse Guy said, closing his eye again. Daehyun assumed this was in response to the first part of the statement, not the second. Fine, then.

He sat gingerly on the edge of his bed. The cell was already vastly more interesting than the one he remembered, thanks to Corpse Guy over here. The familiar red light of the camera blinked down at them from the corner. He gave it a little wave, lest the NRA realize they'd already broken his spirit again. He could at least pretend to be stronger than that.

"Hwayoung," Corpse Guy said, sitting up so abruptly that Daehyun leaned back. "First time in?"

"No." Daehyun rotated his arm to reveal his scar. Hwayoung's expression didn't change.

"Matoki," he said.

"Is that a problem?" Daehyun asked, really hoping the answer was no. Hwayoung's biceps were the size of Jongup. But his cellmate merely rolled up his sleeve to display a Mato military tattoo. Daehyun relaxed.

"The last time I was in, they had me in solitary for eighteen months," he said. Hwayoung hissed in a sympathetic breath. At least, Daehyun _thought_ it was sympathetic; his facial muscles didn't seem to move much.

"You must've really pissed them off," he said with grudging respect. "These days they only throw you in solitary for _behavior modification_. Keep your head down and you should do okay."

There was a loud buzzing and Hwayoung stood next to his bunk, motioning for Daehyun to follow suit. A beat later, their cell door slid open. There was a Sentinel just outside. Daehyun followed Hwayoung out and into a long queue of prisoners moving slowly down the corridor.

Were these all Matoki? Daehyun caught sight of a set of tattoos he was pretty sure were Jackdaw--that guy was lucky the NRA had stopped their practice of burning off identifying marks.

It took him a beat to realize there were no human guards in the place. Sentinels stood at regular intervals down the hall. Daehyun had a sudden sharp longing for Zelo, his wide eyes and unexpected humor. It was strange to look at the Sentinels and feel almost _comforted_. He had to remind himself that, secret humans or not, the Sentinels here wouldn't do him any good.

The prisoners arrived in a massive cafeteria. It was nothing like what Daehyun had experienced before, his meals having been delivered impersonally through a slot in the wall. Here, identical trays of food were delivered via a slowly moving track along one wall. Daehyun followed the other prisoners' lead and picked up a tray as he passed.

He followed Hwayoung to a table. His cellmate introduced him, inciting a series of nods and grunts from the other men, but no one moved to speak. The room was strangely quiet in general, considering the number of inmates. Daehyun supposed they didn't want to attract the Sentinels' attention. He couldn't find a casual way to work _Don't worry, anything you say will just sound like white noise to them_ into the non-conversation. He picked at his gloppy food while he took everything in.

(Yongguk would want him to eat, but also to pay attention. He was trying.)

He counted nearly a hundred men in the room, as well as a dozen Sentinels. These weren't great odds; Daehyun knew a single Sentinel could take out twenty armed humans in a flash. The prisoners were defenseless.

Something flew through the air to his left and he flinched. No one else reacted. Maybe he'd imagined--but no, there it was again. This time he saw the projectile ping off the chestplate of the nearest Sentinel.

Daehyun followed the trajectory back and found a man glaring at the Sentinel. He sat alone at the end of his table, and unlike most of the other prisoners in the room, his hands were cuffed together. As Daehyun watched, he ripped a piece from the roll on his plate and tossed it at the Sentinel.

"Did you see--?" Daehyun muttered to Hwayoung. His eyes flickered to the other man and back to Daehyun.

"Ask me, he's hoping they shoot him. He spends most of his time in behavior modification."

Daehyun glanced back at the man. He was broadly built but painfully thin, his elbows sharp angles jutting out of his uniform. Daehyun narrowed his eyes. There was something vaguely familiar about him, though he couldn't put his finger on it.

"What's he in for?" he asked. Hwayoung shrugged.

"Who cares? NRA asshole. He deserves what he gets."

"NRA?" Daehyun looked again with renewed interest.

" _Was_ , anyway," Hwayoung said. As Daehyun watched, the man tossed the last of his bread at the Sentinel. "Must've done something real bad to make them put him in here with us instead in one of _their_ prisons. He never talks to anyone but he's always trying to get a rise out of the 'bots. Not like anyone here's gonna try to talk him out of his death wish."

Daehyun glanced around again. A few other inmates cast hostile looks the man's way, but mostly everyone was focused on their food. They all kept carefully turned from their Sentinel guards. Only this guy seemed to actually want their attention.

A second buzzer rang. The inmates rose from the tables. Daehyun followed suit, still watching the NRA man, who stayed seated.

He finally turned to find Hwayoung watching _him._

"You looking to make friends?" he asked. "Cause, word to the wise? That won't get you the good kind of attention around here."

Daehyun glanced back at the cuffed man. Something was needling at him. (Himchan would tell him not to ignore a hunch. He was trying.)

But, "I'll keep that in mind," was all he said.

*****

**Rewind**

*****

Youngjae was ignoring him, so Daehyun kicked him under the table.

"Yah," Youngjae muttered, not looking up from his padd. Daehyun kicked him again. Youngjae moved his feet out of reach.

Daehyun surveyed his options, then broke off a piece of bread from the roll on Youngjae's untouched plate of food. He tossed it and raised both arms in triumph as it came to rest in Youngjae's fringe.

The medic lifted his eyes slowly and gave his head a shake, sending the crumb flying.

"What ails you," he demanded. Daehyun gave him a brilliant smile.

"We're having lunch," he reminded him. "Stop working and eat something. You're wasting away before my eyes."

"Hardly." But Youngjae dunked his bread in his soup--probably cold by now--and ripped it off with his teeth. "Happy?" he asked, showing Daehyun his full mouth. Daehyun grimaced.

"What are you doing, anyway?" he said, nodding to the padd at Youngjae's elbow. The other man swallowed before answering.

"Patient charts. I was updating _yours_ , but I guess that's not _important_."

Daehyun sat up straighter, straining to see. "What's it say?"

Youngjae pulled it out of reach and cleared his throat officiously.

"You really want to know?"

Daehyun rolled his eyes: _Obviously._

"A _hem_ , well, _thanks to a frankly_ impressive _level of care on the part of Medic Yoo_ \--"

Daehyun kicked his chair. "You're so full of yourself. What'd you say about _me_?"

"Right, _I'm_ the one who's full of myself." Youngjae shook his head, taking his time drinking his tea. Daehyun rested his chin in one hand and drummed his fingers on the table. "You can't read it. This stuff's confidential."

"You can't be confidential about me _from_ me. That's--" Daehyun waved a hand, trying to pluck the right word from thin air. "--stupid."

Youngjae snorted. "Is not. I know more than you do. This is all very technical, I wouldn't want to strain your brain; you've got enough problems."

"Does your boss know how you talk to patients?" It wasn't his first time asking. Youngjae was lucky Daehyun was so tolerant.

They'd spent a fair amount of time together the past few weeks, mainly after Youngjae finished his shifts in the main medical center. He'd show up at Daehyun's quarters with dinner and they'd talk and joke (and mostly bicker) over a meal. Sometimes Youngjae would forget to leave and simply pass out in his chair and Daehyun would fall asleep too, not-ungrateful for the company.

Youngjae waved away the question. "Patients love me."

Daehyun tried to swipe the padd but the medic held it out of reach.

"I promise I only said nice things," he said exasperatedly. " _Patient is now able to sleep without chemical assistance nearly fifty percent of the time, patient has gained six kilos and his nutrition levels are returning to optimal blah blah blah--"_

Daehyun puffed out his chest proudly. "Thanks for noticing."

" _Anyway_. You know how you're doing," Youngjae said firmly. "It's all good. You're getting better."

Daehyun couldn't meet his eyes, suddenly a bit shy. Youngjae was right. It was amazing what sleep and food and company did for a guy. The nightmares hadn't quite _stopped_ , but they'd begun to fade, as had the persistent self-loathing that had dogged him for the past year and a half. He knew this was thanks to Youngjae, who knew exactly what he'd done in the war, and still thought him worth helping.

But he shouldn't get sentimental. Youngjae was already too good at finding reasons to tease him.

He cleared his throat briskly. "Well. I guess it's no surprise I'm an amazing patient," he said. "Since I'm amazing."

Youngjae eyed him doubtfully. "Your shirt's inside-out."

Daehyun looked down, alarmed, then scowled at the other man. "I hate you."

Youngjae smirked.

They finished lunch and made for the exit, where Daehyun would return to the residential wing and Youngjae the med center. But Youngjae caught his sleeve before he could go.

"Hey," he said, quieter than usual. "You really _are_ doing better, right? You'd tell me if you still felt..." He trailed off, but Daehyun didn't need to hear the end of the question anyway. He nodded.

"'Course I would," he said stoutly. "File your report, tell them how great I am. I won't make you look bad."

Youngjae nodded and smiled a bit tightly.

"Right," he said. "Well, then."

"I'll see you later," Daehyun said, moving towards the residence wing. "If you bring food, bring enough to _share_ this time--"

(It had been a surprise to learn that the med corps got the best food in the fleet. Daehyun had foolishly believed that prison had rid him of his interest in eating forever; the past few weeks had proved him wrong.)

Youngjae kept giving him that strange, tense smile.

"Right," he said. "Later, then"

Daehyun watched him go, nonplussed. What a weirdo.

It wasn't until a few nights later when a knock on his door revealed a pair of uniformed cadets that he realized what Youngjae's report had done.

He blinked as he was handed a fresh flight suit.

"Sir," the shorter of the two said, saluting. "You've been cleared to return to duty."

*

**Now**

*****

Youngjae thought the others were really handling this very well.

"Junhong," Himchan repeated, looking ex-Zelo up and down appraisingly.

" _Choi_ Junhong," he replied, lifting his chin slightly--pride in his heritage, or in the return of his memory? Youngjae didn't know. Either way, it was cute. Endearing. Something. Nothing.

"Uh huh." Himchan looked somewhat less than enthused, but at least he hadn't gone for his blaster. That was a good sign.

He glanced down at Jongup, straddling a chair backwards at the table, then Yongguk. Youngjae had managed to intercept them on their way to meet Jin, and had dragged them back to the mess for introductions. Yongguk hadn't spoken yet, but that didn't mean much. He often let Himchan ask the questions up front, getting all the information he could before making up his mind about a matter.

For his part, Jongup seemed more interested in the Sentinel chip than in anything else. He'd blinked a bit more _emphatically_ than usual when Youngjae explained the whole Junhong development, and then had apparently accepted the new information and moved on to other matters in his head. (Youngjae would hug him later. Jongup was kind of great.)

Himchan stood beside him, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, blah blah blah intimidating-cakes. If he didn't cut it out in a minute, Youngjae was going to step in, commanding officer or no. They didn't really follow the chain of command all that closely around here anyway. He'd let him ask two more questions and then--

"So, okay," Himchan said, narrowing his eyes at Junhong. "Now that you've got all your _real-you_ memories back, are you at all considering trying to take over Cheonsa out of some misplaced sense of entitlement, as is your birthright as part of the NR- _fucking_ -A?"

Youngjae let out his breath in a whoosh that was half-laugh, half _shut the fuck up, hyung._ But Junhong answered, very solemnly.

"Not so far. I'll let you know."

Himchan gave him a cautious half smile. "Do that," he said. He rested his hand on Jongup's shoulder and he and Yongguk exchanged a glance, the captain nodding slightly. "Right, so--what's the deal, then? You remember everything? Childhood through present, or--?"

Junhong started to shake his head, then changed his mind halfway through and nodded. "Kind of? Childhood's there now--family and stuff--and I remember everything that's happened on Cheonsa. But the stuff from when I was a Sentinel's still gone, and I can't access the information stored on my processor anymore."

"Meaning NRA protocols and codes," Himchan pressed. Junhong nodded, looking a bit apologetic.

"I know those would have been useful, I'm sor--"

"It's not your job to be _useful_ ," Youngjae snapped. He glared at Himchan in case he should dare to disagree. He didn't. Youngjae caught Junhong's eye. Junhong pressed his lips together and his dimple flashed, then he looked away quickly. Youngjae's stomach did a swoopy thing.

"Right, well--I think I can still help," Junhong said.

"How?" Yongguk spoke up for the first time.

"I didn't get _all_ my intel from being a Sentinel," Junhong said. "Before the war, my father was contracted to work on a ton of projects for the Alliance, including a few of the large prison stations. I remember him talking about it."

Even Jongup looked up from the chip at this news.

"The stations are heavily fortified," Junhong went on. "We couldn't fight our way onto one if we had ten times as much firepower as any Jackdaw freighter. That's the bad news."

"...Yes," Yongguk agreed. He didn't look happy, but he didn't look surprised, either. They'd known this wouldn't be easy.

Junhong continued. "The good news is we don't _have_ to take the prison itself. We just have to take out the sat ship."

"The _satellite_ ship," Youngjae clarified, unable to contain himself. If Junhong was right, they could actually do this. They could get Daehyun back. "Junhong says the whole station's controlled offsite from a satellite ship. All we have to do is take _that_ and getting in and out of the prison itself will be easy."

The others looked bewildered.

"Why--" Himchan began. Junhong jumped back in. He was shifting slightly on the balls of his feet.

"The NRA was spread kind of thin at the time," he said quickly. "Manpower was a big issue. So they figured if they could just have a small team of guards watching the prisoners from a satellite ship, maybe just  send someone over in person every so often, wouldn't that be better than hiring enough guards for a whole giant station? So the prison should be set up with cameras all over that can be monitored from the ship. Food delivery, waste disposal, all that stuff's automated."

"It fits with what Daehyun told me about when he was in prison before," Youngjae cut in. "There was this one asshole guard who'd show up every week or so to--harass him--" He cut himself off there. He was fairly sure Daehyun had told him a sanitized version of what had gone down with that guy. "But other than that, he never saw anyone."

He recalled a broken mirror, shards sparkling in Daehyun's knuckles. He'd finally admitted to Youngjae how close he'd come once to ending everything. If he'd really tried to hurt himself, would anyone have bothered to stop him, or would they merely have watched the live feed from their sat ship? The idea made unfamiliar rage roil in Youngjae's gut.

"Lock 'em up and throw away the key, huh?" Himchan said, looking slightly sick. His expression was mirrored on Yongguk's face, and even Jongup was glowering.

Junhong nodded at their expressions. "I know. It's awful. My father hated the idea, he thought it was--inhumane--" He stopped short. "I guess that doesn't matter."

Youngjae pushed his fury away, nudging Junhong's arm. "It matters," he said quietly. He couldn't bring himself to think well of any NRA officer, and if Junhong was right, his father's anger hadn't done any Matoki any good. But Youngjae could at least try to think of him as...not-evil. 

Junhong gave him a tight smile. "Anyway--"

"The defenses of the satellite ship must be impressive," Yongguk said. He shoved his hands in his pockets, but not before Youngjae saw they were curled into fists.

The comment revived Junhong, who nodded. "The sat ships were designed to be in constant motion. They've got weapons, but also the best nav tech and maneuverability of any ship in the fleet."

"Kind of makes you wish we had our best pilot on board," Himchan murmured. Yongguk nodded.

Jongup put down the chip. "Jin," he sighed, "is kind of an amazing pilot. He's no Daehyun, but--he's better than any of us."

"Then we use him," Yongguk said immediately, then frowned down at Jongup. "Will you be--"

"Fine," Jongup said shortly. His hand came up to find Himchan's, still clamped onto his shoulder. He linked their fingers together. "I don't care, if he helps."

Right. Youngjae realized he'd kind of forgotten Jongup was going through a pretty major Thing of his own right now. Face-to-face with his former captor--shit. He sat next to him and took his free hand. Jongup's lips quirked quizzically.

"I think our plan should include someone shooting that asshole once we're done with him," Youngjae suggested.

Jongup's smile grew.

"Cool," he said.

"You know I'm definitely down for that," Himchan said. "But--this is all based on some stuff you overheard, what, ten, fifteen years ago? Are we honestly thinking the NRA hasn't upped their security game by now?"

"I'm sure they have," Junhong agreed. "I guarantee they're using Sentinels now. Probably in the prison itself."

"And that's _good_ news?" Himchan asked, eyebrows arching. "Sentinels are good news now? No offense, Junhong, but I still consider you kind of, y'know...exceptional."

"Thank--"

"We have the chip," Youngjae interrupted. He didn't want to think up problems with the plan, he wanted to _do_ something. "If we can use it to disrupt the other Sentinels--look at what happened with the ones you guys ran into on the station--" He had to stop, his argument getting away from him a bit.

Yongguk studied him.

"Jonguppie, do you think that's possible?" he asked, nodding at the chip in his lap. Jongup looked down at it for a beat.

"I--maybe," he said hesitantly. "I've barely scratched the surface of what this thing can do."

Yongguk nodded. He paced the length of the mess slowly. "This isn't enough for us to plan a rescue," he said finally.

Tears of disappointment sprang into Youngjae's eyes. This wasn't _fair_ ; they knew so much about the NRA that they hadn't before. How could it not matter?

"But," Yongguk continued, as if sensing his thought, "this is enough for one hell of a focused recon mission."

Youngjae and Jongup sat up straighter. 

"We know what we're looking for now," Himchan said. Yongguk nodded.

"We can use the cloaking tech to get close. If they're still using the sat ship...if we can figure out their patterns and whether they still send guards to the prison, or if they're just using Sentinels...we should be able to work _something_ out to get to Dae. In the meantime, Jongup can study the chip, try to figure out how we can use it."

The mechanic nodded. Youngjae could feel his shoulder tensed against his own, in nerves or excitement or both.

"And we'll take this to Jin, see if he wants in," Yongguk continued. Jongup flinched and Youngjae saw Himchan squeeze his hand, give him a steadying look.

"It's a plan," he said.

*

It was a _plan_. Okay so it was, admittedly, a plan based on some fairly aged intel, and requiring cooperation from a few sworn enemies, and assuming Jongup could work one of his miracles with unfamiliar advanced tech--but _still._

"You're smiling," Junhong observed, and tilted his head. "...kind of. It's a little scary."

Youngjae reached up to touch his own cheeks. He could feel himself smiling grimly. It probably looked _weird_ more than scary. Daehyun always told him he was the least intimidating person he'd ever met.

"Sit down," he said briskly, nodding to the exam table.

The crew had dispersed, Yongguk and Himchan to take the Jackdaw log and their plan proposal to Jin, Jongup to the engine room to start his chip exam in earnest, and Youngjae and Junhong to the med bay. Sure, Junhong _seemed_ fine, but Youngjae had cut him open in the decidedly unsterile back of a shuttle. He wasn't letting things go longer without getting a dose of antibiotics into his system.

Junhong sat, watching him with wary amusement as he bustled around, preparing the meds. He took his shot without complaint. Youngjae pressed a small bandage to the crook of his elbow before blood could bead out of the injection site.

"Listen," he said, and stopped. It was easier to look at Junhong's arm than his eyes. "Listen, I just wanted to say--thanks. Whether this works or not--"

But he didn't much want to finish that thought.

Junhong leaned back on his hands, making his shoulders bulge impressively in a way Youngjae might have enjoyed under different circumstances.

"You guys are the only friends I've got," Junhong said. "Daehyun's been really nice to me. And...I guess I'm hoping you'll let me stick around when all this is over."

Youngjae met his eyes at that, frowning, and sat beside him, facing him on the exam table. It was the same way they'd sat that first night, he realized. It seemed like years ago, not a month.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded. "Of course you aren't going anywhere."

Junhong pulled a wry face. "I know Himchan and the captain probably don't want some Alliance kid hanging around."

"You're not a kid," Youngjae said automatically. "And--I mean, we didn't want a Jackdaw around, but we're not about to get rid of Jongup, either. You're one of us now."

He thought the others would agree. Even Himchan clearly didn't see him as an enemy anymore, despite this new information. They'd all known there was a good chance he'd turn out to be NRA.

"Yeah?" Junhong's smile was tentative but dimpled. Youngjae just nodded, needing to wet his lips before he spoke.

"We wouldn't be trying this crazy plan if we didn't trust you," he said. Junhong's smile slipped and he looked away.

"Daehyun," he said. "Are you guys..."

Youngjae blinked. When this seemed to be the entirety of the statement, he prompted, "Are we...what?"

But Junhong only shook his head, pressing his lips together. Youngjae had to swallow hard as he _got_ it.

"Um," he said. "He's--my best friend. I probably saved his life after he got out of prison...He'd tell you that's me bragging, but he'd probably also admit I'm right. He told me more than anyone about what he went through, and after that it was my stupid fault he got sent back to the war."

He looked at his hands. He hadn't let himself think about this in so long. It didn't matter how many times Daehyun assured him later it didn't matter; Youngjae would never quite forgive himself for filing that report.

Junhong's hand snaked into his. Youngjae didn't look up, but he let his fingers close around Junhong's. His hands were as big as the rest of him.

"He made it through okay," Junhong said quietly. Youngjae nodded.

"I didn't know. The whole time after he went back, I kept checking all the casualty lists for his name. I was so afraid I'd see it and know I was the one who put it there."

Junhong's grip tightened.

"But instead?" he prompted. Youngjae took a deep breath.

"Instead...nothing. The war went on, and then it was over. And one day I looked up and there he was. He tracked me down on the station where I was working. He'd joined up with Yongguk hyung and everyone by then, and they needed a medic."

They were quiet for a minute. "That's nice," Junhong said finally. "The way you all need each other. I think that's...nice." He laughed a little bitterly, clearly finding the word inadequate. Youngjae wasn't sure when he'd started looking at him again, but now he couldn't quite tear his eyes away.

It was strange, the way he'd grown so familiar after a month, and yet was so _new_ as Choi Junhong. The set of his jaw was harder. He spoke faster, stumbled over his words sometimes. He used contractions more.

He _touched_ more. His thumb was stroking the back of Youngjae's hand absently. He'd reached for him as though it were the most natural thing in the universe, and Youngjae wasn't about to disagree. His eyes traced the prominent line of his Adam's apple, and then Junhong was turning and he was looking at Youngjae looking at him and Youngjae wasn't sure either of them were breathing, wasn't that funny?

There was a little crease between Junhong's eyebrows. Was he waiting for Youngjae to say something? Shit, it was his turn, wasn't it. He tried to remember what they'd been talking about.

"It _is_ nice," he agreed, and felt stupid. What was _nice_. Nothing about his life on Cheonsa, nothing about his tangled friendfamilyship with the rest of the crew could be called nice. _Nice_ was too small and simple a word to begin to encompass it all.

Junhong's frown deepened. Apparently this had been the wrong thing to say. Youngjae tried to backpedal. "I mean--"

"Hyung," Junhong interrupted tersely. "Look, can I just--" And he leaned in and kissed him.

He leaned in and kissed him.

He leaned in and--

Youngjae's brain stopped skipping and started _noticing_ \--the feel of Junhong's lips and the taste of him, tinged with coffee, and then his brain was trying to remember when was the last time he kissed someone?--and then, far too soon, Junhong was pulling back, an apprehensive look on his face.

Youngjae blinked a few times.

"That was--nice," he said.

Junhong raised both eyebrows and Youngjae heard his own words and flailed slightly, hitting the other man's shoulder in the process.

"No, I didn't mean--I mean--it was more than _just_ \--look, shut up, come here--" And he pulled Junhong in by the nape of his neck and kissed _him_ , now that he remembered how. Hopefully. No, definitely. This felt way too better-than-nice- _obviously_ for him to worry he wasn't doing it right. They were great at this.

They parted again, although Youngjae kept his hand on Junhong's neck where he could feel the soft short hair. Junhong breathed out his name a bit unsteadily and leaned in again, just to press his forehead to Youngjae's this time.

"I think I've wanted to do that for a while," he said.

Youngjae thought of Zelo--funny, sad, slightly blank. Everything that had been real about him was still here, but he was altogether _more_ now. Youngjae had liked Zelo very much, but he was positive he couldn't have kissed him like this.

"I think I was waiting for _you_ ," he told Junhong.


	17. Chapter 17

"Absolutely _not_." Yongguk made his voice do that thing where it brooked no disagreement, although historically this had never had a noticeable impact on Himchan.

Nor did it this time; his friend ignored his tone and continued bustling around Albatross's cockpit.

"It's a good plan," he said absently. "Why does no one ever appreciate my plans? Why am I so cursed?"

Yongguk was equally adept at ignoring Himchan's tone, the faux-airiness he slipped on like armor when he was anxious.

"We said none of us would go off alone," he reminded him.

"I won't be alone," Himchan shot back. "I'll be with our good friend Jin." He straightened up. "Bbang, it has to be me." He began ticking reasons off on his fingers. "We can't let Jin run recon on the sat ship alone, and he won't let us go without him. Albatross is best equipped to go. No one knows the shuttle better than me except Jongup, and he's sure as hell not going anywhere with Jin again." His face darkened and Yongguk experienced the sinking feeling that usually accompanied the realization that Himchan had a point. Or two.

Not that he'd finished. "Plus we need Jonguppie working on the chip, and _you_ need to make sure these SS-Jackdaw identity crisis fucks don't screw us over when they swap ships for one the NRA won't recognize--"

"I get it," Yongguk said tersely. He felt compelled to add, "I'm assuming you haven't told Jongup yet, or he'd be in here glaring at you right now."

"Please. Jongup is more practical that _some_ people I could mention."

"So you haven't told him."

"No, of course not," Himchan sighed. "I don't know if he'll be more pissed about me going or about letting Jin on Albatross."

Yongguk didn't bother to dignify this bit of ridiculousness with a response.

"You know what we need," he said--his way of giving in without actually admitting he was giving in. Himchan knew him well enough not to comment on this defeat and merely nodded.

"Don't worry, we won't come back without enough intel to get us onto that station."

Yongguk sighed. He reminded himself of all the missions Himchan had gone on without him during the war. He always came back.

"Fine," he said. He gave his friend a small shove towards the door. "Go tell Jongup. I'll get these comms configured so we can stay in touch."

Himchan hesitated. "Are you sure you know how to--?"

"Stop stalling and talk to him." Yongguk gave him a severe look. It worked marginally better than the tone had done. Himchan slunk out the door. Yongguk sat at the cockpit and got to work.

*

Himchan would have preferred to go a few more rounds with Yongguk. They were so practiced at arguing, always falling into their familiar pattern. Yongguk would try to intimidate him by growling and Himchan would annoy him by taking things too lightly, eventually winning him over with the power of his impeccable logic. Or okay _sometimes_ Yongguk won, whatever, don't change the subject.

He reached his destination, hesitating in the doorway of the engine room. It was strange to find Jongup on the floor, not perched up high working on the engine. He was dwarfed by all the machinery, cutting a compact figure as he leaned over the chip and the scanning equipment he'd pulled out to look at it.

Himchan didn't know if it was the disaster of Daehyun's arrest, or the presence of Jin and the Jackdaws, but the sight of Jongup made something sharply protective surge through him. He wanted to sit behind him and pull Jongup's back against his chest, feel their heartbeats sync up. That would be nice.

Instead, they were probably going to fight.

He rapped on the side of the door and Jongup looked up. His eyes went from narrow and focused to something altogether softer, relieved.

"How'd it go?" he said. Himchan crouched beside him, deciding at the last second that this maybe wasn't the right time for a cuddle, alas.

"Well, Jackdaws suck at keeping logs, go figure," he said. "The thing was incomplete. Once Jin decrypted it, all we really learned was that the freighter ran into an NRA ship with a dead crew."

"And a Sentinel," Jongup guessed. Himchan nodded.

"They were pretty excited. Thought they could just give it orders, have a Sentinel of their very own."

Jongup frowned. "It--he?--wouldn't have been able to even hear their orders unless he'd been damaged like Zelo."

"I guess he had some fun with them before he, you know. Had a _lot_ of fun with them." Himchan pictured the bloody mess of Jackdaws splayed out in the corridors and shuddered. Cheonsa had been lucky with Zelo. With _Junhong_ , right.

He shook off the thought and nodded to the chip. "Speaking of fun, what do you know?"

He expected Jongup to brighten. Nothing cheered him more than a tricky technical question. But he clenched his jaw, his eyes darkening.

"Not much," he muttered. "This thing is so advanced."

Himchan studied him, then the scanners he was using to examine the chip. Jongup had built them himself, cobbled together from scraps he'd scavenged over the years. Himchan had a great deal of faith in Jongup's creations--hell, Cheonsa was only still in one piece thanks to him--but he wasn't shocked that they were outmatched by the Sentinel tech.

He set aside his earlier reservations and shifted behind Jongup, caging him between his thighs.

"Him _chan_ ," Jongup sighed, but the protest was half-hearted at best. He let him pull him against his chest, relaxing for a long beat. "I don't know if I can do this," he said finally. "If I can't figure something out, Daehyun..."

"Hey." Himchan nudged his ear with his nose. "This isn't all on you. If we can't use the chip, we'll find another way." He sensed an opening--either perfect timing or, you know, the worst. "Like for instance, I'm gonna take Albatross to run recon on the sat ship now. We'll know so much more soon. We might not even _need_ the chip."

Jongup tried to twist in his arms. Himchan held him fast, not wanting to see his full frown.

"What do you mean _now_? We're close enough already? Who's going with you?"

"Well we don't want to be _too_ close; can't have them sniffing us out," Himchan said lightly.

Jongup tensed, shaking off his embrace so he could turn to face him. Himchan tried not to wince. He didn't have as much practice arguing with Jongup as with literally _any_ of the others. He wondered how worried he should be that they'd basically doubled their fight count since becoming officially...whatever they were. Still Undefined, but now with capital-F Feelings!

"Who's going with you?" Jongup repeated. His handsome face was forbidding, which meant he'd already guessed. Himchan just looked at him. "No," Jongup said. "Why are you _always_ \--Yongguk won't let you go alone anyway. I'm coming with you."

"No," Himchan said. He tried to make his voice sound less like a commander giving an order and more like a partner talking to his partner, but in a way that would imply the second partner seriously shouldn't argue. He didn't think he got it quite right, because Jongup immediately opened his mouth to protest. Himchan cut him off. "Jonguppie, Bbang and I already went through all this. He doesn't like it--and I'm not, like, thrilled, by the way--but it makes the most sense."

He paused, took in the stubborn glare on Jongup's face. Apparently he was unconvinced.

Fine. Himchan sighed.

"I don't want to fight with you," he said quietly. "I don't even want to fight with Jin. I mean I _do,_ but--I just want to get Daehyun back. I can't help you with the chip, I'm a worthless negotiator next to Bbang..."

Jongup's glare was fading as he spoke. He pushed on. "But I've run a thousand recon missions working with guys who wanted to shoot me even more than Jin does. This is something I can _do_ , and I _need_ to do something."

It possibly sounded like he was asking for permission now, but he found he didn't care. He didn't think he could stand to leave with Jongup angry at him.

The mechanic sighed and slumped into Himchan's chest.

"I hate everything." It was muffled in his shirt. Himchan smiled a little and pet his hair.

"Everything is terrible," he agreed. Jongup pulled back just enough to squint up at him suspiciously.

"People wanted to shoot you when you did recon in the war? The other soldiers weren't your friends?"

Himchan winced. "Ah. Not...universally, no. My sister used to say I was an _acquired taste_." This memory didn't hurt as much as usual, maybe because he basically had a lap full of Moon Jongup.

A Moon Jongup who was smiling, albeit with reluctance. A Moon Jongup who was _kissing_ him now, and there was probably some joke to be made about acquired tastes and how Jongup could taste him any time, but Himchan would have had to stop kissing him to make it, so he let it slide away into comedic obscurity and just kissed him back. Maybe he could even get to _like_ fighting with Jongup, if their pattern ended this way.

At some point they stopped kissing and just breathed each other in.

"How long will it take you guys to get there?" Jongup said, not moving away. Himchan told him. Jongup swore without much energy, then did pull back. "If you're not back in eighteen hours, I'm taking over the ship and coming after you."

It was sweet. Protective Jongup could have been cute. But Himchan had no urge too laugh; what he felt more than anything was relief. He nodded slowly so their foreheads wouldn't knock together.

"I'll set the clock by it," he promised, and kissed him again.

*

Daehyun had been right about not snoring, but he'd been wrong about not _sleeping_ , and apparently prison brought out the nightmares in a guy, because he woke up screaming.

It had been a long time since the dreams had been this bad. He woke utterly disoriented. It didn't help to find two Sentinels standing over him.

For a long, painful beat, he didn't remember where he was. He might have yelled for Yongguk, for Youngjae, before he realized he wasn't on Cheonsa. He caught a glimpse of Hwayoung's sleepy startled face, and then two sets of unyielding metal hands were hauling him out of bed and toward the door. His feet barely touched the ground as he was frogmarched down the hall.

He didn't bother making a sound; he was too busy trying to get his brain to catch up and remember what was happening. He was back in NRA prison, a waking nightmare, okay, right, check.

The Sentinels dragged him through a set of doors to a shorter corridor with still _more_ doors. They opened one and when Daehyun got a look inside he almost forgot himself and screamed again. This was a room he remembered too well.

They shoved him into the solitary cell and closed the door behind him. Daehyun fell to his knees in the middle of the small space. He couldn't seem to remember how to get oxygen into his lungs. Didn't that usually happen automatically?

" _Breathe,_ " a voice said.

Daehyun should maybe have been alarmed--disembodied voice and all--but he was too busy trying to follow its advice. It took a long time, but all at once cool, life-giving air filled his lungs. _That_ was how you did it.

He stayed there gasping for a beat before the voice spoke again.

" _Better_."

It didn't sound like Youngjae's voice, or Yongguk's, or anyone who might have come from Daehyun's own head. He looked around a bit wildly, trying to locate the source, his head still spinning a bit.

"What?" he asked a bit dumbly.

" _Who are you?_ " the voice asked, and Daehyun's eyes landed on the camera in the corner of the ceiling. Its red light was blinking. _That_ was new. He stood up cautiously, staring. Was this some new NRA mind game? Throw him in with the general prison population, make him think he wouldn't just be alone forever, and then put him back in solitary and slowly drive him nuts with voices?

"Don't you know who I am?" he asked.

There came the sound of what could have been either static or an exceptionally dry laugh.

" _They don't keep me all that informed in here._ "

The image came to Daehyun of a tiny man living inside the camera, before a more plausible idea occurred to him.

"You're--the guy from the mess hall," he said slowly, squinting at the camera as though he could see past its blinking light to the man who was somehow on the other side. "The one with the handcuffs?"

He wasn't sure how he _was_ so sure, but--

" _Guilty_ ," the voice said. Daehyun stepped closer to the camera.

"How are you doing that?"

Of course, it _could_ still be a trick. But at least it was a distracting trick. His panic attack was fading, his breathing normal.

" _I broke my camera ages ago. Broke it enough times they stopped fixing it. Once they stopped, I fixed it myself, with a few tweaks."_

Daehyun wasn't sure if it was the connection making the man's voice sound so scratchy. If he'd been in solitary--ahem, _behavior modification_ \--long enough, who knew how long it had been since he'd spoken to anyone.

"You must be good with tech," Daehyun said cautiously.

" _Yeah, I'm the best_ ," the man said sourly. " _You still didn't tell me who you are._ "

He debated the merits of talking to a supposed NRA traitor who might still just be trying to mess with his head, and decided it would at least be more interesting than waiting to go nuts all on his own.

"Jung Daehyun. Former Matoki fighter pilot. You?"

There was a long pause. _"Choi Junseo. Former NRA idiot and current enemy of the state."_

Daehyun had thought the man looked familiar, but the name didn't mean anything to him. He wondered if they'd crossed paths in the war somehow.

"Is _idiot_ an official title in the NRA?" he asked. That would explain a lot. "How'd you turn enemy of the state, anyway?" It seemed his cellmate had gotten that part right.

" _Kind of a personal question seeing as we just met._ "

"Hey, _you_ tapped into _my_ stalker cam. I'm just making conversation." Daehyun collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the blinking red light. "Which reminds me, can the guards hear us?"

" _Nah. It all reads as a cam malfunction to them."_

Daehyun nodded. "Does whatever you're in for have something to do with the Sentinels?" he guessed. Junseo was silent. "Does it have to do with how they're actually human?"

_"How the hell do you know that._ " The other prisoner's voice had gone dark and suspicious. It made Daehyun feel a bit better. He'd clearly thrown him off; this seemed like a good sign.

He shook his head admonishingly at the camera. "C'mon, Choi Junseo," he said. "You wanna talk, I can't be the only one answering questions."

There was another pause, this one long enough Daehyun almost wondered if Junseo was gone. But the red light was still blinking.

_"They lied to us,_ " he said finally. _"They told us the Sentinels were gonna help_ rebuild _, not--be what they are now."_

Daehyun tried to follow this. "They--who? Who lied? The NRA?" He refrained from adding _no fucking kidding, who couldn't see_ that _one coming_.

" _Yeah._ " Now Junseo just sounded tired. _"The Sentinels were supposed to protect our people and rebuild after the war. They were never supposed to fight."_

"The giant cannons that come out of their arms would seem to suggest otherwise."

_"I didn't know about that. I didn't fucking_ know _, I never would've--_ " Junseo broke off cleanly, but Daehyun thought he was starting to understand anyway. This NRA idiot had helped create the Sentinels, somehow. But he'd been misled about their true purpose because--all together now--the NRA were _fucking terrible_.

"So when you figured out what was really going on, what'd you do? Try to tell people what they really were?" he guessed.

_"The government didn't like that so much."_

Daehyun snorted. "No, they wouldn't, would they. How long have you been here?"

_"I forget. What's the date?"_

Daehyun told him.

_"Well. Since just after the war."_

Daehyun let out a low whistle. "I have about a thousand questions. Who _are_ all the people they're using as Sentinels? Where'd they all come from?"

_"Not so fast. Your turn--how do you know they're human?"_

It was Daehyun's turn to hesitate. It wasn't that he didn't _trust_ the mysterious disembodied voice coming from the camera in his NRA prison cell, but--oh wait, it was actually exactly that.

_"C'mon, Jung Daehyun, former Matoki fighter pilot, I can't tap into this feed forever without them coming to check it out...you're already imprisoned, what's the worst thing that can happen?"_

Daehyun didn't especially want to test this question, but Choi-Junseo-if-that-was-his-real-name had a point.

He summarized the story of finding Zelo in the warehouse, editing things to sound like he'd been alone. No need to bring Cheonsa or the rest of the crew into things. Junseo didn't seem to notice that Daehyun had somehow been medic, engineer _and_ captain in this version of events.

" _So he was himself again when you got all the Sentinel shit off him?"_ he asked urgently.

"Well--I mean, he doesn't remember who _himself_ is, really," Daehyun hedged. "He doesn't remember much of anything. But it seemed like maybe some of the stuff that happened while he was a Sentinel was coming back."

Junseo was silent for a long time. Daehyun really wished he could see him, and not just to check whether he was conferring with a bunch of his NRA friends.

_"Did it seem like there was still some...person...left in there?"_ Junseo asked finally, and Daehyun got a sudden hunch.

"You lose someone?" he asked. "Do you, like....know one of the Sentinels?"

He was getting used to these long pauses.

" _I just want to know if someone could come back. If they might be able to survive that happening to them_." Junseo spoke haltingly, and Daehyun understood. Whatever he'd done to get in here, this was all deeply personal for him.

Good. Daehyun could use that. He pushed away his instinctive sympathy, trying to think.

"I mean, Zelo's definitely a person," he said. "He's got a sense of humor and stuff. I don't know how much of it has anything to do with whoever he _really_ is, but he's not just some robot if that's what you mean. We-- _I_ \--like him." He winced at his slip.

But " _Good_ ," was all Junseo said. _"This is good. Thank you, Jung Daehyun."_

This had a finality to it and Daehyun frowned, sitting up. "What are you--?"

_"Told you, can't stay on the line forever. It's better if you don't acknowledge me in person later."_

Daehyun recalled what Hwayoung had told him about Junseo: _That won't get you the good kind of attention around here_.

"I don't--" he began, but there was a soft click and the camera light returned to its steady red. He was alone again.

*

If Yongguk were the type to notice _vibes_ , he'd say there was a strange one in the med bay.

He tried to ignore it as he described the decrypted Jackdaw log to Youngjae and Junhong. The medic was seated cross-legged on an exam table and Junhong stood on the opposite side of the room, arms crossed, thoughtful frown on his face.

If Yongguk were the type to notice stolen glances between his crew he might have counted sixteen separate instances where Junhong or Youngjae glanced at the other. They managed to avoid actually meeting each other's eyes every time.

"It doesn't tell us much," he finished his story with a sigh.

"Love that anticlimax," Youngjae agreed. He was chewing his thumbnail. Yongguk had thought he'd kicked the habit a year ago. He supposed this was a stressful time. He tugged Youngjae's hand from his mouth gently.

He turned to find Junhong glaring across the room at him. His expression cleared when Yongguk caught him.

"I--mean it tells us the Sentinel's chip was damaged like mine," he said. "Or he wouldn't have followed their orders. Or murdered a ton of people, probably."

Yongguk conceded the point with a nod. It confirmed what they'd expected.

"You said you were like a tech genius and that's why they chose you for the program?" he said. Junhong shrugged.

"I was good for my age, I dunno about _genius_."

Youngjae shook his head. "So modest."

Junhong dimpled at him and **_!!!!!_** went the vibe in the room. Which Yongguk did not notice or acknowledge. He was a _space captain_ , he noticed things like solar flares and Jackdaws and quasars and whatnot. He'd had quite enough vibing from Himchan and Jongup, thank you very much.

"Well maybe looking at the chip with Jongup would jog your memory a bit?" he suggested. He'd passed by the engine room on his way here and had heard the engineer banging around impressively. Himchan and Jin had gone, and surely Jongup could use the distraction of another person.

"Worth a shot, I guess," Junhong said. He glanced uncertainly at Youngjae ( _seventeen_ ) and made for the door. Youngjae glanced at his back ( _eighteen_ ) as he left.

"You know he'll do anything you ask because he thinks it's an order," he informed Yongguk as soon as he was gone. Yongguk frowned.

"It wasn't. I'm not _his_ captain."

"He wants to stay." Now Youngjae looked a bit nervous. He was biting his nails again.

"He says that now," Yongguk said. "But he may still have family out there. We can help him look once Dae's home."

It was hard to think past that. It was a giant wall in his mind, impossible to see beyond. It was one thing to _say_ it, to be so outwardly confident in their success, but he couldn't help sending a small superstitious signal to the universe that he wasn't being cocky. He had no interest in tempting fate.

Youngjae was scowling. "His brother sent him off to be a _Sentinel_ ," he said. "We're going to send him back to _him_?"

"Or his mother," Yongguk said, and joined Youngjae on the exam table. "I'm not kicking him out, Jae. Just...he may decide he wants to leave. Y--we should be prepared for that. I don't...have a problem with him staying, if that's what you're worried about. I don't even think Himchan will, and if he does, we'll all just look pointedly at Jongup at the same time until Channie realizes he's being a hypocrite."

Youngjae snorted but his smile faded quickly as he twisted his hands together. "And d'you really think we can pull this off?" His face suggested he believed the answer would be no.

"Hey." Yongguk nudged him with his knee, tried to smile. "Of course I do. Failure's not an option."

He hadn't lost anyone since the end of the war. They'd gotten into trouble a hundred different ways, but they were still standing. Each time he'd accepted a new person onto the ship, he'd sworn to himself he'd keep them safe, and Yongguk took his promises very seriously. They would get Daehyun out because he _said_ so, dammit.

His resolve must have been showing, because Youngjae sat up a bit straighter.

"He's strong," he said, almost to himself. "He doesn't think so...his panic attacks and all, but he's wrong. Everything he's been through, and he's still so--" He stopped and swallowed and looked away. Yongguk looked away too to let him collect himself. Youngjae knew Daehyun better than any of them. Yongguk searched for something to say that might help.

"D'you know how he used to talk about you before we found you?" he said. Youngjae narrowed his eyes.

"This is gonna be mean, isn't it."

But Yongguk shook his head. His smile felt easier now as he remembered. "When we first met, he was flying salvage runs near Mato, so he was, you know--"

"Bored out of his mind?" Youngjae finished. Yongguk nodded.

"Himchan found him first and they were already arguing by the time I got there...I thought Dae was gonna take a swing at him. But then I told him we had a ship and were looking for a pilot."

"I bet that shut him up," Youngjae said, as if he hadn't heard this story a dozen times before. Yongguk just nodded again, although Daehyun hadn't shut up so much as stood up straighter and flashed that blinding grin: _Never mind, I take it all back,_ he'd declared, throwing an arm across Himchan's shoulders. _I'm your new best friend, when can we leave?_

But this wasn't why Yongguk had brought it up. "Anyway, he hadn't been with us a week before he started telling us about you, that we had to find you for the crew. Kept saying you were his hero and our ship _needed_ you."

Daehyun had been earnest about only two things in the beginning: flying, and finding Yoo Youngjae. Himchan had been the one to finally track him down, tossing the work assignment at Daehyun over breakfast one morning: _Anything to get you to shut the hell up about it._

The medic was blushing furiously now. "He's so dumb," he muttered. "His _hero,_ honestly--"

"You know he meant it," Yongguk told him, and frowned. "I bet he'll give you all the credit when we rescue him."

He meant to make Youngjae laugh and was relieved when he did. So relieved he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?" before he could think better of it. Youngjae raised his eyebrows. Yongguk clarified: "You...Junhong..."

The medic flushed even darker. "Um."

"So I wasn't imagining things."

Youngjae rubbed the back of his neck and avoided Yongguk's eyes. "It's kind of messed up, I guess."

"Why do you say that?"

Youngjae sputtered. "My best friend is _missing_ \--What kind of person would I have to be to think about anything else right now?"

The scoffing way he asked this told Yongguk how much he cared about the answer.

"The kind who's able to hold two separate thoughts in his head at once?" he ventured. Youngjae shook his head convulsively.

"I don't--know," he said at last. "He's--we're--" He sighed very heavily. "I guess I like him," he said, and made a face. "Oh, this is gonna be a disaster."

Yongguk discarded a number of supportive _Nooooo's_ when he doubted his ability to find the correct tone. He patted Youngjae's knee instead.

"Dae's going to be so excited for you," he said. Youngjae paled.

"The teasing," he said. "Oh, this _is_ gonna be a disaster."

Which--well. Sure. Yongguk sent a small vibe of his own out into the universe. _This_ kind of disaster he would take.

*

They almost made it without talking, but then the Jackdaw had to go and _ruin_ things.

"This is a nice little ship," Jin said. "Moon did a decent job with it."

Himchan wanted to punch Jongup's name out of his mouth.

"I'd pass along the compliment, but he doesn't give a shit what you think," he said instead. He checked the map. "We should be there in an hour."

"Think you can resist killing me that long?" Jin asked.

_I've resisted this fucking long,_ Himchan thought.

"I'm not gonna kill you," he said.

_Not while you might still be useful, anyway._

Jin seemed to hear this unspoken bit. He gave Himchan a sideways, assessing look. "No?" He actually seemed to be waiting for an answer. Himchan rolled his eyes.

"Getting Daehyun back is more important than...you," he said finally. (Privately, he categorized them entirely separately so one had nothing to do with the other, like comparing apples and space slugs. But he wouldn't jeopardize getting Dae back by _saying_ so.)

"Prove it," Jin said, and shot him.

Wait, he _shot_ him.

Only in the shoulder, but _still_.

" _Fuck,"_ Himchan groaned. Flames licked across his skin. He had the presence of mind to be impressed at how quickly Jin had pulled his weapon out. Again. And  _n_ _ow_ Himchan had the presence of mind to be pissed at himself for letting his guard down when he'd known how fast the other man was. Jongup was going to kill--at least one of them. "That was _genuinely_ uncalled for," he managed.

The Jackdaw was studying him thoughtfully. The blast had clearly not been meant to kill, or to do much of anything but hurt like hell. Mission accomplished. Himchan pounded his fist against his thigh, trying to adapt to the pain.

"I know Moon told you to expect revenge," Jin said after a beat. "Figured we'd get it out of the way now." He shook his head. "Like I've never been hit in the face before."

"Really? I wasn't your first?" Himchan said. The pain wasn't getting better--it wouldn't do that without a hit of the painkillers he knew Youngjae had in the medbay back on Cheonsa--but he was getting himself under control. It was all about _ow ow fucking ow_ breath control. "Lucky for you this isn't my first time getting _shot_ , either."

This was, he realized, some kind of fucked-up Jackdaw _test_ , to see if he really wanted Jin's help more than he wanted to get him back for what he'd done to Jongup.

"Lucky," Jin agreed. "You guys must really want your boy back."

"We're _getting_ him back," Himchan snapped. "And you're gonna help." He paused, his thoughts drifting slightly. Predictably. If he couldn't shoot Jin back--yet--he could at least get the other thing he'd come for. "But you know a blaster hit's worse than a punch."

"Oh, what, so I _owe_ you now?" Jin sounded amused. "So how do we get even?"

"Tell me about Jongup's mother," Himchan said.


	18. Chapter 18

Moon Eunae was alive.

Alive and in all probability very near Cheonsa at this moment.

"We can swing around and pick her up once we catch up with the others _,"_ Jin said a bit grudgingly. When Himchan demanded to know why he hadn't told Jongup, Jin gave him an innocent look: "He didn't ask."

Himchan really couldn't wait until all this was over and he could kill him.

But first, he had a job to do, and he wasn't about to let a little thing like terrible company--or getting shot--get in the way. Here he was, coming up on an NRA prison, and the stupid NRA were none the wiser.

The prison station was a long metal tube, creepily smooth with no obvious hatches or windows. Himchan thought of Daehyun sitting up against the wide front window of Cheonsa's cockpit, drinking in the stars. No wonder.

"Check out the little guy," Jin murmured. It took Himchan a beat to see it, but then his eyes caught the quick erratic movements of a much smaller ship making an irregular perimeter around the station. Junhong had been right.

"They shouldn't detect us with the cloak," he said, straining to track the satellite ship's path.

"Yeah...about that," Jin said.

In one swift smooth movement he deactivated the cloak and sent a hailing frequency across the comm. "Mayday, mayday, anyone out there?"

Himchan made to punch him, but the Jackdaw was on his injured side and his arm did not cooperate.

"The fuck are you _doing?"_ he hissed, groping for his blaster.

Before Jin could answer, the comm lit up with a response.

From the NRA, who were now aware of their presence. Well, fuck.

" _Unidentified vessel, you've entered secure Alliance space, turn back now."_

"Ah, thank goodness someone's home!" Jin said, ignoring the command. His voice had gone slightly shaky and _warm_ , relieved. "Are we glad to see you guys. We could use your help."

He winked at Himchan who only stared back, nonplussed.

There was a pause before the NRA came back, sounding a fraction more human. _"State your situation."_

"We got all turned around heading home from our last job, had a run-in with some Jackdaws," Jin said. He gave a theatrical shudder as he said it and grinned at Himchan. "My friend here got hurt while we were, ah, making a swift exit, but we don't have much in the way of medical supplies left. Any way you could help us out? He's really hurting over here."

There was another long pause. Himchan tried to figure out if this had been Jin's plan all along. He couldn't decide if it was brilliant or if they were about to get their dumb asses killed.

" _We can direct you to the nearest station for assistance,"_ the voice said.

"Ah, man, please? You know how bad blaster hits can get," Jin said. "If it helps, we've got a ton of good rotgut on board that's all yours if you help us out. Decent booze must be hard to come by way out here, am I right?"

Another pause. There was no way this was going to work. No one wanted a drink that badly.

Then, abruptly, the sat ship was in front of them. God but it was fast. It was also larger than Himchan had at first supposed, and decked out with some very obvious weaponry.

Albatross's controls went dead under his hands.

_"We're pulling you into the bay. Come out unarmed, or we won't hesitate to shoot."_

"Of course, thank you so much, thank you," Jin babbled, then rolled his eyes and cut the comm. He turned to Himchan with a proud grin.

"What the fuck are you thinking?" Himchan demanded.

"I'm _thinking_ let's get some real intel to help us bust into their phallic palace over there," Jin snorted. "What were _you_ thinking--we'd take a few pictures from a safe distance and that'd tell us enough to get in?"

Well. Yeah, kinda. Himchan rolled his eyes. He hated to admit it, but they'd learn far more from inside the sat ship than outside it-- _if_ they could keep the guards from simply arresting them on sight. Which meant--goddammit.

"Shoot me again," he said with a sigh. Jin raised his eyebrows. Himchan motioned to his shoulder. "You wouldn't be so panicked over an obvious flesh wound. We need this to be convincing."

 _And hope they have a decent doctor on board_.

He braced himself. Jin had his blaster out and was appraising him.

"Any preference?" he asked. Oh, Himchan had quite a few, but none would help them right now. They were almost inside the sat ship. He stood up.

"Just above the gut," he said, bracing himself. "Try to miss the major org--"

Jin shot him.

At such close range, the blast went deep. There was no way to prepare; the hit was sudden and thought-obliterating. Himchan went down. He had no idea if he cried out, had no idea of much of anything but pain and fire for a long beat.

He became dimly aware of Jin ducking into the back of the shuttle, heard the sound of more blaster fire before the Jackdaw returned, tucking the weapon away into a nearby console. Then he had his hands under Himchan's armpits and was dragging him to the back. He arranged him under a series of new blaster marks on the bulkhead. Anyone who didn't know better would think they'd been in a firefight.

There came a brisk knock to Albatross's underbelly.

"If this--doesn't work, Jongup's--going to kill you," Himchan gasped. His lips felt numb.

"Tell me something I don't know," Jin said, and went to open the door to the NRA.

*

It was with surprise that Daehyun found himself being taken back to his cell only a few hours after he'd been brought to behavior modification. He supposed "loud nightmares" might not warrant a long stint in solitary. The NRA were clearly getting soft in their post-war years.

The Sentinels let him walk this time, guiding him to the cell he shared with Hwayoung.

"You're back," his cellmate said.

Daehyun collapsed onto his bed. "Bet you wish I just snored now."

"You're not the first. That shit happens a few times a week."

He lifted his head to see the other man. "Really?"

Hwayoung just nodded. Daehyun let his head drop. His mind was still spinning around the question of Choi Junseo. Did he go around talking to everyone who got dragged in after a bad dream, or had he just been curious about the new guy?

More importantly, if he was who he claimed to be, he clearly had the kind of tech ability Daehyun would need if he was going to get out of here. He was sure his friends would try something--hopefully they'd found Yongguk by now, hopefully they had _some_ idea where Daehyun had been taken--but he itched with the need to do something for himself. Sitting around waiting to be rescued wasn't really his style.

The alarm rang out and they were herded to the mess hall for breakfast. This time Daehyun saw Junseo being led in by a pair of Sentinels. He tried to catch his eye without _looking_ like he was trying to catch his eye, but the other prisoner didn't glance his way. Dammit. Daehyun just wanted some confirmation that this was who he'd been speaking to.

He needed to know he hadn't just imagined the whole thing.

As he thought this, the other prisoner's eyes flickered over to him. He held Daehyun's gaze for just a beat longer than necessary, then both men returned their attention to their plates. Daehyun hid a smile. Good enough.

Now he just needed to get himself thrown back in solitary.

*

Himchan was twice-shot, surrounded by NRA soldiers, and his nearest ally was a Jackdaw. It was enough to make a guy question his life choices.

He let out a groan as he was carried through the satellite ship.

"Med bay's just the next level down--" the soldier nearest his head said. They rounded a corner and Himchan spotted an array of screens. It took only a second to see they were monitoring camera feeds. He let out an especially loud wail.

"Stop, stop, put him down!" Jin said. "We shouldn't keep moving him, we'll make it worse!" He sounded so panicked the soldiers actually listened to him and set Himchan down right there in the corridor.

They were a younger crew than Himchan had expected, in a rare lucky twist. More experienced soldiers would have known better.

"Go get my med kit!" a sharp-faced girl who couldn't be older than Junhong barked at one of the others. He hurried off at a jog. Himchan had the hazy idea this was the most action these guys had seen in a while.

"Were you followed?" one of the others asked Jin.

Himchan had to hand it to the Jackdaw; he was a decent actor. He seemed genuinely shaken and the officer had to nudge his shoulder and repeat the question. "The Jackdaws, did they--"

"No," Jin said. "No, we outran them, thank god. Thank god we ran into you guys, I didn't think we were near anything--"

"Your shoulder isn't so bad, it's this gut hit I'm worried about," the girl told Himchan briskly.

"You and me both," he managed. "You're a doctor?"

Her cheeks colored slightly. "I have medical training," she hedged. Himchan tried not to roll his eyes.

"I hope you're just--being modest," he gasped as she began probing his abdomen gently. He let his eyes drift to the bank of screens over her shoulder.

They were live feeds of the station. Himchan saw prisoners sleeping, pacing their cells, doing their best to exercise in their cramped spaces.

And he saw Sentinels. Lots and lots of Sentinels: patrolling corridors, conducting repairs, or standing still as statues as if awaiting instructions. There was no sign of any human guards. Another point for Junhong.

"Here!" The young man was back with the med kit. The not-doctor began narrating what she was doing, while the officer in charge grilled Jin about the Jackdaw attack.

Himchan let it wash over him, still searching the screens through eyes slitted nearly closed against the pain. He didn't have to feign that; his abdomen throbbed and burned distractingly.

But he wasn't about to have gotten shot for nothing. _C'mon, Dae, where are you..._

As if he'd summoned him with the thought, his eyes fell on the pilot. Daehyun was sitting against the wall on a narrow cot facing the camera. The angle made him look tiny, or maybe it was in comparison to the other man in his cell.

He was alive. Himchan's relief eclipsed the pain for a breath. Relief, and then frustration--they were so _close_ , and Daehyun had no idea he was here. Not that it would do them any good if he did--

An impressively long needle appeared, blocking Himchan's view.

"I need to numb the area," the medic said.

"Squeeze my hand when it hurts," Jin said supportively, waving in Himchan's face. Himchan just managed not to growl at him. Then he just managed not to scream as the needle slid into his wound.

Questionable. Life. Choices.

*

"Oh, I don't like this," Youngjae muttered, scowling out the window. Cheonsa was moving, docking with a Jackdaw vessel. Jin had called ahead to some friends and arranged the drop-off, letting his SS colleagues take their ship to carry on with their usual mercenary business.

There was a pause as the Jackdaw freighter loomed ever closer, filling his view.

Then warmth as Junhong stepped close enough their shoulders brushed.

"I've never seen one of their ships so close," he said, craning his neck to see as much as possible. Youngjae's gaze was diverted to the column of his throat and he had to push away some badly-timed thoughts about the taste of his skin.

He jerked his chin back to the window as Junhong turned his way, not wanting to be caught staring.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, they're...something."

"It's kind of creepy." Junhong gave him a crooked smile as he glanced back. "The bloody stripes and stuff."

"They're trying to freak you out with those. Don't fall for it."

Junhong's smile widened and he shrugged. "Maybe I'm just a coward?"

Youngjae hissed in a breath. "Uh oh. I don't think I can be involved with a wimp."

" _Involved_ ," Junhong repeated. "What are we, dating?"

Youngjae had never flirted with anyone this close to certain danger. He wasn't sure what it said about him that he was enjoying it so much.

"I already took you to the movies," he pointed out. Junhong shook his head, pressing his lips together, though his dimple still showed.

"And fell asl _eep_. Terrible first date behavior."

He made a good point.

Cheonsa shuddered as they finally docked with the freighter. Yongguk didn't quite have Daehyun's finesse at the helm. Youngjae stumbled at the impact, instinctively steadying himself against Junhong, grasping his arm until Cheonsa settled back to stillness.

"Sorry." He made to move away but then Junhong had a hold of his sleeve and was tugging to keep him in place.

"What for?" He gave him a small quizzical smile that looked really nice on his lips and only fed the butterflies fluttering around Youngjae's stomach.

"Almost knocking you over?" he said. Junhong snorted.

"I'm sturdier than _that_ ," he said, offended. His hand was warm through the thin layer of Youngjae's shirt. The medic was spared having to answer when his radio beeped. Yongguk's voice cut through the quiet.

_"Sorry for the bumpy ride. We're docked; everybody sit tight for now. Not much for us to do but wait for Himchan to get back."_

Jongup answered from the engine room, a terse agreement. Youngjae glanced at his watch. Himchan had been gone six hours now and Albatross had been quiet for two, unable to transmit to Cheonsa from soclose to the prison station. Youngjae knew Jongup would be on edge until they were back within range. He couldn't blame him.

"He'll be okay," Junhong said. "Himchan. He always seems...y'know. Competent?"

Youngjae had to laugh a little. "He's competent," he agreed. "Also stubborn, argumentative, reckless..."

"Exactly, what could go wrong?" Junhong said innocently. Youngjae shook his head.

"No, I mean--you're right, he's good. He knows what he's doing. And he loves Dae, even if he'd never admit it out loud. He's the right one to go." He almost sounded like he believed it. Junhong tilted his head and somehow they were standing closer than they'd been a minute ago.

"You wish you'd gone with?" he guessed. Youngjae sighed.

"I don't know if I'd have helped much. But yeah. I hate just waiting."

There wasn't even much planning he could help with, not until Jongup figured out how to use the chip somehow. All Youngjae could do was let his brain fight it out between worries over Daehyun and curiosity about what Junhong would do if he pressed his lips to his neck right now.

Ugh, _disaster._

"I'm glad you're still here," Junhong offered. He slid his hand up Youngjae's forearm, looped around his wrist briefly before winding their fingers together. "But you're right about waiting. There has to be something we can do. I couldn't really help Jongup--I, um, think he wanted to be alone?--but maybe the Sentinel armor will tell us something."

Youngjae couldn't help smiling, squeezing his hand. "Maybe it'll tell _you_ something, tech guy."

Junhong smirked. "Keep me company, then."

Youngjae let him lead him back towards the med bay. "I won't distract you?"

"Um." Junhong laughed self-consciously as they ducked inside. "No? I mean. If you weren't here I'd probably just be thinking about you...so..."

Oh. It was Youngjae's turn to smirk, and by _smirk_ he meant _smile bashfully,_ ugh, he was _so_ uncool. But Junhong was still holding his hand, so he must have been doing something right.

"Well," he said briskly. "Focus for now. There'll be plenty of time to be all lovestruck later."

Junhong paused and Youngjae had enough time to seriously rethink his own words. And he'd called _Himchan_ reckless. Throwing the L-word around willy-nilly five seconds after he kissed a guy for the first time, honestly.

Except Junhong was blushing a little, and his dimple was showing, _and_ he squeezed Youngjae's hand before releasing it and moving to the cabinet that housed the Sentinel suit.

"Later, then," he agreed. "Now help me get this thing out of here."

*

"Will he be all right, Doctor?" Jin asked, all but clutching imaginary pearls in anxiety and, in Himchan's estimation, seriously overplaying the concerned crewmate.

"He'll survive," the medic told him. Himchan sensed her irritation with the Jackdaw and liked her for it before he remembered she was NRA. The painkillers finally flooding his system were making him forgetful.

"Thanks," he told her hoarsely, because he could hate the NRA with every fiber of his being but he didn't have to be rude about it. Also, hurray for not being dead. She gave him a small smile.

"Glad to help. This was good practice for me."

Himchan groaned. "I'm not sure I needed to know that."

The officer in charge was pacing a short ways away. "What _I_ still don't understand is how you took a blaster straight to the gut but your ship is fine," he said.

"Please don't interrogate my patient," the medic snapped. The officer rolled his eyes and turned to Jin. Before the Jackdaw could muster more of his thespian prowess, the youngest-looking man spoke up.

"Um, you mentioned something about alcohol?"

Jin brightened.

"Of course, your payment!" he said, pushing himself to his feet. "We've got a bunch leftover, c'mon, you can help me carry it--" He motioned to the young man who'd provided this helpful distraction. They were back a beat later, bottles cradled in their arms. The sight even seemed to cheer the humorless commander.

Himchan couldn't help glaring at Jin, who had clearly stolen the bottles from Cheonsa somehow.

"You guys have _no idea_ how much we need this," the youngest was telling him fervently.

"Gets pretty dull out here, huh?" Jin said with sympathy, passing bottles around to the officers with a gracious smile that sat oddly on his features. "What is this place, anyway? That tube thing you guys are guarding?"

The commander's face turned suspicious and Himchan cursed Jin's lack of subtlety. He spoke up before any of the officers could.

"What part of _secure Alliance space_ don't you understand?" he ground out, then turned to the commander. "I'm sorry, he's an idiot. We'll get out of your space now, honestly, thank you so much for your hel--" He made to push himself up, which, no. Ow. No.

"Easy, easy, no one's kicking you out right this second," the medic said gently, wrapping an arm around his shoulders for support. "Right, sir?" And she gave the commander what Himchan suspected was a rather pointed look, though he couldn't see it with his eyes squeezed shut against his current agony.

"No," the commander said grudgingly.

"You can stay and have a drink at least, make sure your friend's okay," an acne-scarred young man piped up. They must have been really hard-up for entertainment around here if Jin seemed like good company.

"If you're sure," Jin said cautiously, casting a hopeful look at the commander. "We haven't seen anybody but each other--well, and those Jackdaws--in a week."

"That's _nothing_ ," the medic said, to general rueful laughter from the others. "Think you feel up to moving?" she asked Himchan. She helped him sit up gingerly. He glanced at the array of screens one last time, looking at Daehyun. But there didn't seem to be much more to take in from here.

"If I go slow," he said bravely. Hands came to help him to his feet, then Jin was there, propping him up. Himchan summoned all his strength of character not to shove him away. "I could use a drink," he added, and the soldiers clapped.

*

Jongup had no idea how long he'd been staring at the chip without seeing it. His mind was too busy playing a loop of all the worst case scenarios that could be happening with Jin and Himchan right now, plus his very _skin_ felt alive with the knowledge that Cheonsa was surrounded by Jackdaws. Just because he couldn't see them from the engine room didn't mean they weren't there.

His little misery playlist was interrupted by a light knock behind him, then Yongguk was crouching beside him.

"It's not going well," Jongup said before he could ask. "I don't know anything helpful." He bit back something self-pitying, unable to look at the captain.

"This is some of the most sophisticated tech that's ever existed," Yongguk reminded him gently. "It's all right if it isn't immediately obvious how we can use it."

There was a certain logic to this, but Jongup wasn't mollified. If he couldn't figure out how to use the chip, then there was no reason he couldn't have just gone with Himchan. If he couldn't figure out the chip, he could do nothing to help Daehyun. Both ideas were unacceptable.

But he tried to let Yongguk's presence soothe him, thankful they seemed to be past his own, well, _past_. They'd been close since Jongup's first few months on Cheonsa when it had only been them and Himchan. These past few weeks were the longest he and Yongguk had ever been at odds with each other. Jongup hadn't known he could miss someone he still saw every day.

"If we can't figure out the chip right away, let's think around it," Yongguk said. Jongup arched an eyebrow.

"How?"

Yongguk was quiet. Jongup let him think. He tried to think too, but he was so tired and he was so anxious and his brain might as well have had a flashing sign reading _Out of Order_ for all the good it was doing right now.

"With everything else going on, I forgot we still don't know how Zelo got to that warehouse," Yongguk said finally.

Jongup gave a start. He'd forgotten, too.

"He told me ages ago he thought someone erased his memory files manually," he said slowly. "There _is_ some, like...scuffing, around the edges of the chip. It could be normal wear and tear, or Youngjae could have done it when he took it out. Or it could be from someone else handling it."

He hated not knowing. He hated the feeling that he didn't have all the pieces to figure something out. He _always_ figured shit out. That was his whole _thing_. 

Yongguk nodded slowly, kneading at the muscles in the back of his neck with one hand.

"There was that one Sentinel who was self-aware enough to talk to Zelo. And there was the one who killed his crew and took out those Jackdaws."

"Plus the guards Himchan and Junhong passed on the station mentioned malfunctioning units," Jongup said, perking up a little as his brain tried to latch onto the pattern just starting to take shape.

"So whatever's happening, it's not just Junhong. Do you think...Could someone inside the NRA be tampering with the Sentinels?"

"It'd have to be more than one someone for the damage to be so widespread," Jongup said, shaking his head. "I have a feeling what happened with him was different. For all we know the others are just wearing down. From what his brother told him, I doubt they were meant to be in service this long."

"You're saying there could be Sentinels all over the sector who are just...waking up?" Yongguk said. "Their chips wear down and one day they're themselves again?"

Jongup bent to look at the chip again, studying the faintly worn edge. He shook his head, frustrated. "It's possible. But I'd need to see more chips to make a decent guess. And I don't know how any of this helps us get to Daehyun."

Yongguk wilted, shoulders sagging. "You're right."

"But," Jongup said. The _Out of Order_ sign flickered, went dark, his brain finally whirring back to life. He thought, then shook his head. "But how would we _do_ that," he muttered to himself, forgetting the other man for a moment.

"Do what?"

"Zelo said he got orders from some Operator, right? Remember how lost he was without that? What if we could just...cut the Sentinels off from their Operators, or block the signal somehow?"

"What if we could?" Yongguk said. "Would they all wake up, or--?"

"I don't--think so," Jongup said. "Remember how he was when we found him? I think this would put them into some sort of stasis. And if they really are the ones guarding the prison--"

"That would be a _lot_ easier for us to deal with," Yongguk finished. He reached for his radio. "Let's see what Junhong thinks."

*

The NRA officers liked to drink, _and_ they were bored out of their minds. Himchan could work with this. It just so happened he knew a few drinking games. Such a shame he couldn't really join them in the endless rounds of shots; not with his injury. Ah, well, someone had to play referee.

"Wait a minute. So if I have two aces--" the acne-scarred Tae-whatever began, scratching his head.

"You give all your face cards to--Min-thing," Himchan improvised, pointing to the youngest officer across from him. Tae-whatever dissolved into tipsy (bordering on drunken) laughter.

" _Min-thing_ ," he repeated, picking two kings and a jack out of his battered hand and tossing the cards onto the table.

"'E's terrible with names, don' mind him," Jin slurred. Himchan really hoped he wasn't as drunk as he seemed. The officers, at least, were clearly not faking it. They hadn't even noticed that the game he was teaching them didn't make any sense.

"Kim. Kim. Kim." Jin was tapping his uninjured arm insistently. Himchan breathed the thin air of dwindling patience in through his nose and turned to him.

"What."

"You forgot the part where they have to change seats now, right? We all have to--after face cards're changed, we have to--" Jin motioned vaguely. Tae-whatever was already half out of his seat, obedient thing that he was.

"Right!" Himchan smote his own forehead. "We all have to move--" He glanced at Jin, who inclined his head just slightly to the left. "clockwise."

This shift could have just been Jin's way of messing with the officers.

Or, Himchan admitted, it could have been so the Jackdaw would be able to see down the hall towards the sat ship's command center.

The group had crowded into the tiny mess hall, which, while surprisingly cozy, didn't tell Himchan much about the ship. He'd been hoping he could get them all to drink enough that they'd simply pass out, but the rotgut seemed to be hitting them at different speeds. At this rate, he'd need another three hours to take them all out. His promise to Jongup played in the back of his mind, the clock ticking down.

Also, his gut hurt. The painkillers had deadened it somewhat, and it seemed Jin really had managed to avoid hitting anything too important. But Himchan knew he needed to get back to Youngjae as soon as possible so he could take a look. God, Jongup was going to _kill_ him.

 _Focus, idiot_ , he reminded himself. He rattled off a few more nonsense rules that required the more sober half of the group to take a drink. Then Jin rose from his seat, swaying on the spot.

"Gotta hit the head," he said. "Where--?" He waved an arm around. Min-thing pointed down the hall.

"Bathroom's around the corner, second door on the right."

Jin made off down the hall. Himchan could see how his gait evened out when he was out of view of the others. So maybe he wasn't completely useless after all.

*

It was easier than Daehyun had imagined, once he got up the nerve to do it. He just had to stop thinking of himself as Daehyun the Prisoner and remember he was _actually_ Daehyun the Pilot. Daehyun, Youngjae's Best Friend. Daehyun, the Best Cook on Cheonsa (Okay Fine, Second Best Shut Up Himchan). He wasn't a _victim_. He had _agency,_ dammit.

It was admittedly a little embarrassing to climb up on his cot and start banging away at his camera, hollering _I don't belong here!_ and such. But it did the trick; moments later his friendly neighborhood Sentinels were there, dragging him back to behavior modification.

It didn't feel quite so scary this time. It didn't take so long to catch his breath when they closed him in.

"Junseo?" he said.

There was no answer. Fine. Daehyun could wait. He sat on the cot, pressing his palms together between his knees to stop them shaking. He kept his eyes on the camera's steady red light.

"Junseo?" he tried again. A few minutes later, again.

The red light began to blink.

_"You losing it already?"_

Daehyun grinned his relief.

"You sound disappointed," he said. "And no; I just needed them to bring me back so we could talk."

_"About what?"_

Daehyun gave the camera the full wattage of his smile. "About how we're going to get out of here."

*

Jin could hear the game continue behind him as he quickly explored the ship. He took a series of pictures of the command center controls for Moon to study, and eventually wound up back at the wall of cameras.

He watched as the pilot they'd come to rescue climbed up to scream directly into the camera, shaking his fist and wailing.

"Fucking Matoki drama queen," Jin muttered. He went back to the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS YOU GUYS YOU GUYS my friend Kiki drew these AMAZING pictures of our Cheonsa crew--if you haven't seen them around tumblr, please check them out and give her lots of love. They're so gorgeous. <3
> 
> https://wthyd-kiki-art.tumblr.com, bangdae's up top with links to himup and younglo :)


	19. Chapter 19

The medic's name was Soomin. Himchan kind of wished he didn't know that. She held her liquor better than Min-thing or Tae-whatever, or the commander, who everyone just called Sir.

They all drank too much and Himchan had the absurd impulse to go to the kitchen and make them something to soak up all the alcohol. At least half of the small crew would be sick tomorrow. He had to keep staring at their uniforms to remind himself what they really were.

It was a relief when Min-thing's head dropped to the table.

"I'm'a sleep righ' here," he mumbled. Sir kicked him.

"Pathetic," he said, but with unmistakable fondness. "That's it, to bed, all of you."

The protests were half-hearted at best.

"We can find bunk space for you guys," Soomin offered, leaning over Himchan to check the bandage on his shoulder.

"Nahh, thanks Doc, but we should head out," Jin said, standing and stretching. "Thanks for the hospitality, though."

Himchan was torn between wanting to protest--the longer they were here, the more they could learn--and wanting to leave as quickly as possible. Before the crew learned who they really were or what they really wanted. Before the crew could shake off the shadow of the NRA completely and Himchan would be forced to see them as all too human, and all too young.

It was easier not to know.

Of course, leaving now also meant trusting that Jin had obtained sufficient intel on his trips to the bathroom.

Ugh. _Trust_ and _Jin_ did not belong in the same sentence.

Still, he let the other man pull him up.

"Looks like I'll make it home, thanks to you," Himchan told Soomin with a smile. She waved a hand airily, almost knocking her empty glass off the table.

Himchan could walk, though it felt strange with the middle of his body numbed out. He stumbled and Sir caught his arm.

"Easy," he said. His eyes were glassy from the alcohol but his grip was sure.

"Thanks." Himchan wanted to pull away but he let the other man guide him for a few steps.

"That was a good game," Sir said. His tight-lipped expression had faded over the course of the evening, and now his grin was wide and lopsided. "We'll have to remember that one."

_Good luck with that._ "Great." He should think of something else to say, but he was so tired he might as well have been drunk himself. Sir didn't seem to mind.

"I've never played it before," he continued. "Never even heard of it. Don't think any of the crew has."

"No?" Himchan said, keeping his eyes glued on the hatch at the end of the hall, the one leading back to the hangar bay and Albatross.

"Nope. It didn't make the rounds at the Academy. I thought I knew all the good drinking games."

Himchan found Sir staring at him intensely. He was aware of Jin tensing on his other side. He wondered if he really did have a second blaster tucked up his ass; it might come in handy if the commander kept up this line of questioning.

"Huh," Himchan said blandly.

Sir nodded. "You're Matoki," he said.

The chatter from the crew behind them faded abruptly but Himchan didn't turn to look. He could imagine a sea of blasters aimed at his back.

Sir nudged him. "Don't think we didn't see how uncomfortable you were at first. I don't blame you. Thing's're still tense from the war, I know. I wish they weren't."

"I guess maybe a little," Himchan conceded, because he had to say something and the truth would probably hurt Sir's drunken feelings.

Sir nodded again.

"Well, now you know we don't bite," he said.

They'd reached the hangar bay.

Himchan let out his breath. "I'll spread the word," he said.

*

Junhong had always been at the top of his class.

The notable exception had been a six month period just before his home station was destroyed. His teachers thought his sudden distraction was due to his father's death, and that was part of it.

But it had mostly been a boy.

Minhyuk was his first real boyfriend and Junhong had been unprepared for how distracting he would be. He found himself staring at the back of his neck in class when he was supposed to be reading. Or taking a final exam. The hours he used to spend studying were now spent finding private places to make out. There was a lot of gazing at each other adoringly and a lot of _groping_ each other adoringly and they could talk for days without stopping.

Junhong could remember the intensity of it all now, although the accompanying feelings had faded.

Or, rather, they'd transferred to someone else.

Jongup had stopped by the med bay, practically vibrating with excitement over a hazy plan to disrupt the Sentinels' link to their Operators. Junhong was thinking it over now--honestly!--but he was also very _aware_ of Youngjae, off to the side, fidgeting. Youngjae off to the side, biting his nails in a way that was somehow incredibly handsome. Youngjae off to the side, being incredibly invested in the outcome of all this, so _focus up, Junhong_.

Thankfully he was better at dividing his attention than he used to be.

"I think it would work," he told him. Youngjae lowered his hand from his lips.

"Yeah?"

"If we can calibrate the right signal and boost it so it's strong enough, sure."

"Do you know how to calibrate the right signal?"

Ah, there was always a snag. "It'll--take some trial and error," Junhong said carefully. Youngjae gave him a doubtful look.

"How _much_ trial and error?"

"A...bit."

"Junhong."

"Two bits."

The medic sighed, running a hand through his (excellent) hair in frustration. "So we're nowhere."

Junhong hesitated. They were alone again; Jongup had been on his way to the mess hall for more coffee. He wanted to comfort Youngjae somehow, hold his hand or put his arm around him or kiss his face off or _something_. But it didn't feel right while they were discussing plans to rescue his best friend. He didn't want him to think he was taking advantage or something.

Before he could decide what to do, Yongguk poked his head into the room. "Jae, I need you."

"What's wrong?"

"Himchan's back."

*

"He actually said not to tell Jongup they're back?" Youngjae asked. He and Yongguk stood outside the docking bay. The captain nodded grimly. "Well. That can't be good."

"No, I wouldn't think so." Yongguk already had a blaster pulled out. Youngjae eyed it.

"Should I be armed here?"

"I can take out Jin myself."

Youngjae could hear the grinding of metal as the bay doors began to close.

"Sure, if you want to steal Jongup's thunder."

Yongguk's lips twisted into a reluctant smile. "Hopefully I won't have to."

The atmosphere sensor turned from red to green as the bay was re-pressurized. They pulled the large doors open.

There was no damage to Albatross that Youngjae could see, so that was something. The ramp lowered and a second later Jin descended, hands carefully open and empty in front of him.

"If you kill me, you'll never get the intel on that sat ship. I know things Kim doesn't," he said as they approached. Yongguk didn't slow down and a second later his blaster was pressed to the other man's temple.

"Not a great opening," he said. "Where is he?"

Jin gave him an exasperated look. "He's _on the shuttle_ , where else--?"

"Shut up," Youngjae advised, pushing past him into Albatross. "Hyung?"

"Heyyyy." Himchan's voice was somewhat raspy but very much alive and Youngjae allowed himself a warm rush of relief at the sight of him--before his eyes fell on the mess of his torso.

"Shit," he muttered, kneeling beside him.

"I'm having a _day_ ," Himchan said wearily.

"I can see that." Youngjae leaned in close, examining the wound.

"This is like your new medbay lately," Himchan said, motioning around the shuttle vaguely. "Did Bbang kill Jin?"

"Not yet. What happened? And if you say _hurr hurr, well Doc, I've been shot_ or something, I'll--" He waved a threatening fist.

Himchan stuck out his lower lip. "You'd deny me the obvious joke? What kind of friend are you?"

"Hyunggg," Youngjae sighed. He frowned at the blaster hit. "It looks like this was already treated--how did you--"

"The NRA hooked me up."

His eyes flew to Himchan's face, which was serious. His friend nodded. "We got onto the sat ship, Jae."

Before Youngjae could ask a few obvious questions of his own, like _whaaaaaaat?!_ , Yongguk was there, crouching beside him.

"Shit. Himchannie, I _told_ you not to get shot."

"You did not!"

"I--it was implied. It's always implied!" Yongguk snapped, but his fingertips brushed Himchan's hand gently. "Jae, what do you need?"

He was still studying the wound. "Most blaster wounds you can just go the whole ointment-antibiotics-bandage route, but this one's so deep--close range hit?" he guessed. Himchan nodded. "Yeah...Look, I'm gonna dermal-gen the shit out of this. Hurts like hell to speed up the healing that way, but it's the best way to keep it getting infected."

"Terrific," Himchan said tightly. "Yah, whatever, let's--get this over with."

Youngjae nodded. "We need to get to the med bay. Can you walk?"

"If not, I can help." Jin was standing in the doorway, miraculously un-punched-in-the-face. Yongguk's powers of restraint weren't legendary for nothing. Youngjae and Yongguk exchanged a glance. The medic could see the captain very much wanting to tell the Jackdaw to fuck off, but needing to keep an eye on him, too. If he really did have intel Himchan didn't, they couldn't very well have him giving it to his fellow Jackdaws first.

Himchan glared at Jin. "What did I tell you about talking?"

"I think it was something along the lines of...don't."

"Let's go," Youngjae said.

*

They made it to the med bay without running into Jongup, but Youngjae doubted they could keep this from the mechanic much longer. He had to be watching the clock for the shuttle's return.

But that wasn't his problem right now. He could see better in this light.

"A centimeter or two in any direction and you might be looking at major organ damage right now," he told Himchan, laid out on the exam table. "You gonna tell me how this happened?"

Himchan grimaced. His eyes darted to Jin, who was looking at the ceiling with more attention than it probably warranted.

"You fucking--" Yongguk's face was a thundercloud about to break. About to break Jin's _face,_ ha ha. The Jackdaw was quick, darting out of reach.

"He _told_ me to!"

Yongguk pulled up short and turned his glare on Himchan, who was giving the ceiling the same attention Jin had seconds before.

"This isn't really important," he muttered, motioning at his body. "Just--can you get me cleaned up before Jongup sees?"

Youngjae and Yongguk exchanged outraged looks, then Yongguk got himself under control with some spectacular jaw clenching.

"Fix him up," he told Youngjae shortly. He fixed Himchan with a meaningful glare. " _You_ \--get better." He motioned to Jin and they left.

"That was the most intimidating well-wishing I've ever heard," Himchan grumbled, and Youngjae almost laughed despite himself.

But, priorities.

"You got onto the sat ship?" he prompted, pulling out supplies.

"We sent out a distress call. We had a medical emergency," Himchan said dryly. Youngjae stared at him for a beat, unsure whether he wanted to pinch him or hug him. There was nothing fundamentally new in this, but the urges weren't usually so _strong_.

"If you get yourself killed trying to help Dae he'll be _so mad_ at you," he said finally. "And did you even stop to think about--"

"Jongup!" Himchan interrupted, reading his mind. Or, no, spotting the mechanic in the doorway.

If Youngjae had thought Yongguk looked frightening, Jongup had him beat. His expression could burn planets to ash. Youngjae looked away quickly, prepping his equipment. He didn't look up until Jongup and his accompanying stormcloud of fury were right beside him.

"Hey," Himchan said, relief and apology in his voice.

"Where is he." Jongup's voice sounded like--something metaphorically terrible, listen, Youngjae was a medic, not a wordsmith.

"Jongup-ah--"

"Where is he."

Himchan sighed. "With Bbang somewh--"

Jongup turned on his heel and went to the door. Youngjae winced in sympathy as Himchan watched him go, his expression complicated. Youngjae turned the dermal-gen onto its lowest setting, beginning the tedious work of hastening the burn heal. Himchan smothered a groan. Youngjae heard the retreating footsteps behind him stop.

A beat later, Jongup was back, slipping past him to stand over Himchan's head.

"You're such a pain in the ass," he told him quietly, bending over to kiss him upside-down, thumbs stroking his face as he kissed across it gently.

Youngjae tried not to feel too weird about this and focused on un-charbroiling Himchan's torso. It was funny; for all that he'd known about Himchan and Jongup's relationship for ages, they were never this open in front of the others. He supposed this was better than fighting. But it made him suddenly think of Junhong, made him wonder...

Yongguk seemed okay with the idea of _them_ , and Youngjae couldn't imagine Himchan or Jongup having a problem with it. Would they? Junhong was Alliance-raised, his father _had_ been an NRA soldier. Fuck, what would Daehyun say? Youngjae had been mostly joking with Yongguk when he'd mentioned it before, but now that he really thought about it, he wasn't sure. What if Dae had a problem with it? Hell, technically he'd never even _met_ Junhong. _That_ was weird.

He was distracted by the changing pitch of the instrument in his hands as he turned it up to the next setting. Himchan gave another pained gasp.

"Hang in there, hyung," Youngjae said. "One more run on this level and we'll take a break."

"It's fine," Himchan lied. Jongup was still bent over him, lips pressed to his forehead. Youngjae was pretty sure none of them breathed as the gen finished its cycle and he shut it down.

"Fuck," Himchan muttered.

"It's working," Youngjae assured him. The wound was no longer so raw-looking, although the thin layer of scar tissue the dermal-gen had produced still had a mean, pink look to it.

"What the hell happened?" Jongup said, but his didn't sound so furious now, his fingers brushing the hair back from Himchan's face.

"I saw Daehyun," he said.

*

Himchan was glad to be home. Sure, so Youngjae's fucking dermal-gen hurt as bad or worse than the blaster hit. But Jongup had resisted his urge to find Jin and beat the shit out of him, had instead stayed through all of it, fingers playing in Himchan's hair, lips brushing his skin.

Worth it.

"I'm afraid to look," Himchan said when Youngjae took a break for the third time. Jongup leaned over him and Himchan's eyes landed on his neck. Like all things Jongup, it was excellent.

"It's not so bad," he said, leaning back again. "Just...big."

Himchan nodded. "Help me up."

Youngjae and Jongup each took a side and push-pulled him gently into an upright position. He finally glanced down at his torso, which had gone from red and crispy to pink and smooth. Technically an improvement. He'd always looked good in pink.

He'd outlined the trip for his friends, answeringtheir questions along the way--well, except for the ones he couldn't. He hated to admit Jin really could know things he didn't.

"He didn't tell you what he saw on the trip back?" Youngjae asked. Jongup answered before Himchan could.

"He wouldn't give up his best leverage. He knew I'd want to kill him when I saw this." He nodded to Himchan's wound. Himchan gave a half shrug with his uninjured shoulder.

"He's not stupid." Even admitting this felt disloyal, but Jongup only nodded grimly. Himchan gave Youngjae a sideways look. He'd told them everything--save for one key detail. "Jae, would you mind giving us a minute?"

Youngjae glanced between him and Jongup and arched an eyebrow. "You should wait at least an hour before you...exert yourself," he said. Himchan made a face at the innuendo.

"It takes us longer than a minute to do _that_ ," Jongup said. Youngjae blinked, then covered his ears.

"Oh God, I don't need to know."

Jongup smiled slightly. "Himchan does this thing with his thighs--"

" _I'm going to find Yongguk hyung, Himchan welcome back, don't pick at your scar, I'll be gone an hour_ \--" Youngjae said frantically, backing out of the room.

"That was mean," Himchan told Jongup happily. Jongup just kissed him hard, one hand fisting in his hair until they had to part for breath.

"I'm still mad," Jongup told him without moving away.

"Yeah, but more at Jin than at me, right?"

"Always. But seriously, hyung..." He pulled back, his face troubled. "No more dangerous missions alone, okay?"

Himchan studied him. "I guess you'll have to come on the next one, then," he said finally. Jongup's eyes narrowed in question. "There's a system of moons near this stretch of the Bends?"

They had returned to the nebula system to rendezvous with Jin's ship. Cheonsa wasn't the only crew who liked a good cover.

Jongup's frown deepened. "I know the Jackdaws have some bases around here, yeah..."

Himchan nodded. "Jin gave me some coordinates. Apparently they've got someone stashed away who could help us out figure out that chip. Want to come with me to pick them up?"

He held his breath, unsure whether it would be better to lay it all out now or wait and see, make sure Jin hadn't just been messing with him. But he didn't like the idea of lying to Jongup--or of leaving him again so soon after they'd been reunited.

The younger man opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap, and Himchan saw his sudden understanding. He pulled him closer, wrapping a leg around him and linking his hands behind his back.

"Is it--?" Jongup managed to stutter out. Himchan nodded.

"Jin says she's alive," he said quietly. "Living and working on one of those moons."

Jongup gave a shuddering breath and Himchan ran his hands up and down his back, wanting to soothe but knowing he couldn't, not really.

"You believe him?" Jongup said finally. Himchan had given this a lot of thought. He nodded.

"I don't _trust_ him," he said. "But in this--yeah, I believe him." He didn't bother to say aloud that if Jin were lying about Jongup's mother, his time was very much up. He was surviving on borrowed minutes already as far as Himchan was concerned.

Jongup looked sick. "What if she--" He cut himself off, pressing his lips together so tightly they went white. Himchan found his hands and squeezed. He thought he knew the unspoken question. Jongup had told him about the final strained years he'd spent with his mother after he'd joined the Jackdaws.

"She's your mother," Himchan reminded him now. "She wants to see you, Jongup, I swear she does." He simply couldn't imagine an alternative.

Jongup hesitated but nodded. His face was very carefully blank, his eyes settled somewhere around Himchan's chin. "You'll come with me?"

Himchan nudged his nose with his own. "Of course."

He didn't like the part of himself who wanted Moon Eunae to turn out to be _useful_ , but he was relieved to find the part that simply wanted her to be whatever Jongup needed her to be was much larger. He'd been holding so much guilt and grief for so long, and there was nothing Himchan wouldn't do to relieve him of it.

"I love you, you know," he said, and froze. Jongup's eyes flew to his, the blankness dropping away.

"...You...?"

Welp, it was out there now. Himchan managed a smile and kicked Jongup's butt with the side of his foot. "Don't sound so shocked."

"I'm." Jongup stopped. For a heartbreaking beat Himchan saw suspicion in his face, but it quickly faded, to be replaced by something raw and hopeful. And slightly terrified.

Himchan wasn't shocked at his silence--he _had_ kind of blurted it out randomly. He kissed him.

"It's okay," he told him softly. "I didn't say that so you'd--just--don't say anything, okay? Let's tell Bbang the plan and get Albatross ready to go again." He released his grip on his hands. Jongup continued to stare at him for a long moment before blinking a few times and stepping back.

"Shouldn't Youngjae finish--?" he said, one hand hovering over Himchan's abdomen.

"I can live with it like this," Himchan said, sliding off the table and testing his strength. Not his best _ever_ , but at least he'd passed out for a bit on the trip back to Cheonsa. His abdomen ached, but he felt strangely light after his confession--or maybe it wasn't so strange. He'd been carrying it around so long now.

He nudged Jongup, who still looked a bit shell-shocked. "C'mon. Let's find Bbang."

*

Yongguk didn't take much convincing--whether because he knew how much they needed the help or because his old soft spot for Jongup had returned, it was a relief not to have to argue the point for long. Jongup felt sick with nerves, his heart a stuttering anxious mess in his chest. It helped to focus of prepping the shuttle for her next outing.

_Himchan_

Jongup refueled Albatross quickly, scowling at some new blaster marks on the bulkhead.

_loved_

No doubt these were Jin's handiwork. No doubt it had been clever. Jin was always so _fucking_ clever.

_him_

(Jongup was very focused, thank you.)

He just managed to stop himself overflowing the shuttle's fuel tanks. He rested both hands on his knees and closed his eyes tight against--everything.

_She's alive._

_I love you, you know._

He wasn't sure how he could be so undone by two things he'd already known. Because he had, right? No matter how many times he'd told himself it was wishful thinking to imagine she was still out there, he'd never been able to truly believe his mother was dead. He was sure his own heart would simply stop if she was killed, no matter the distance between them. He'd _know_.

What he wasn't so sure about was what kind of reception to expect when she saw him.

As for Himchan, he'd shown his feelings a thousand ways, each painfully obvious now that Jongup let himself think about it.

He hadn't said it back. He'd wanted to, but the words had crowded together in his throat. Because what if he was wrong? What the hell did he know about _love_? Was _that_ what he was supposed to call that swoopy feeling in his stomach when he saw an unexpected flash of Himchan's collar bone? Was love the reason Himchan could make him laugh so hard it hurt, or the reason Jongup had nearly stopped breathing when he saw he'd been shot?

Jongup was pretty sure _love_ was too big a word to just go throwing around when you had no idea what you were talking about. Himchan deserved better than some knee-jerk response.

"Ready to go?" As if his thoughts had summoned him, Himchan was back suddenly. He'd changed into fresh clothes, and if it weren't for the slightly stiff way he was moving, Jongup would never have known he was hurt.

He should say something. He should apologize for being so fucked up he didn't even know what he felt. He should say that at the very _least,_ Himchan's existence was simply necessary to his own. (Wait, was _that_ love? Fuck.)

He just nodded. Himchan clapped his back as he made for the cockpit.

"Should be a short trip," he said.

*

"Is it me you're trying to protect or the runt?" Jin asked.

Yongguk ignored him, watching Albatross retreat into the distance. Again. He was getting sick of watching his friends leave. When all this was over he was putting padlocks on the hangar bay.

"No one's protecting you," Youngjae spoke up. "Jongup can kill you once he gets back. He's just busy right now."

"Are you forgetting my ship is much bigger than yours?" Jin asked. Yongguk couldn't stand the amusement in his voice. As if any of this was funny. He'd very nearly shot the Jackdaw when he'd walked out of Albatross without Himchan--and then again when he got a good look at his friend. He'd had to keep the image of Daehyun at the front of his mind to stop himself. Jongup _could_ kill Jin once he got back, unless Yongguk beat him to it.

But first things first.

"You promised us intel," Yongguk reminded him, turning reluctantly from the window to face the room. They'd returned to the relative neutrality of the mess hall, although it tainted something in Yongguk's heart to see the Jackdaw sitting at the table where the crew took their meals. The table where they'd last all been together. "So far you haven't told us anything Himchan didn't already tell Jae."

Not that he'd call the new information _nothing_. They'd confirmed the station was guarded by Sentinels and that the sat ship's crew was both small and inexperienced. They'd confirmed the ship itself was even more impressive than Junhong had described.

They'd confirmed Daehyun was still alive.

Definitely not nothing.

Jin reached into his jacket's inner pocket--Yongguk tensed, his hand straying for his blaster--and pulled out a small rectangle it took a beat to recognize as a camera.

"Took some pics of their command center," he said, twirling it between his fingers. "Was _gonna_ show it to Moon, but I guess that'll have to wai--"

Youngjae was quick, darting up behind him and snatching it from his hand. He tossed it across the room to Junhong, who caught it easily.

"I'll take a look," he said. He was wearing an old jacket of Himchan's, the sleeves covering his implants. Jin narrowed his eyes.

"Don't think we've been introduced."

Junhong smiled thinly. "How 'bout that?" He ducked out the door. Yongguk caught Youngjae's eye and nodded. The medic caught his meaning and followed Junhong out.

"Anything else?" Yongguk asked Jin. The Jackdaw tilted his head to give him a disdainfully inquisitive look.

"How much do you think I'm gonna give you for nothing?"

Yongguk snapped.

In a heartbeat he'd ripped his blaster out of its holster and Jin out of his seat, pressing him flat against the floor. Yongguk had a lot on his mind; he couldn't be especially bothered with how hard he pressed the gun into the other man's throat.

"You still have your life," he said without raising his voice. "After what you did to Jongup, I promise you don't deserve it." And after what he'd done to Himchan, Yongguk wasn't about to promise he could keep it.

The Jackdaw was very still under him, hands up where Yongguk could see them. Good; he knew how quick he was with a weapon.

"Now. Tell. Me. What you saw," he said deliberately. He lifted the blaster a hair so Jin could breathe. He let out a small cough.

"All you had to do was say please," he said, but he wiggled his fingers as if to remind Yongguk he was still unarmed. Yongguk didn't let up. The war was over; he wouldn't shoot an unarmed man. But Jin didn't have to know that. Yongguk just raised both eyebrows and waited. "Fine," Jin relented. "There was one other thing I didn't tell Kim."

Yongguk let his blaster twitch. Jin didn't flinch, but he went on. "I'm pretty sure there was a malfunctioning Sentinel locked up on that sat ship."

*

It turned out Daehyun and Junseo had lots to talk about.

Daehyun told him what he knew about the Sentinels, i.e. that Junseo's plan of provoking them with an onslaught of edible missiles was unlikely to yield results.

Junseo told _him_ some useful things about the prison schedule, i.e. that a collection of human guards would be arriving to check in on station operations the next day.

_"Convenient, eh?"_

Daehyun was pacing. "Convenient," he murmured. "What do they do? How many will come?"

_"It's not like they all line up to introduce themselves. I've seen their medic a bunch of times. She always has the same assistant, and they've rotated three guards for her. Dunno how many others come with. You'll probably meet her; she always checks out new prisoners."_

"Will she do that in here or take me somewhere?"

_"She works out of the infirmary. Why, what are you thinking?"_

He was thinking...quickly. If human guards only showed up every couple weeks, it was unlikely they'd be a large crew. They'd probably show up in a shuttle. Daehyun was confident he could pilot any ship the NRA could come up with.

He knew he was rushing things. He should not be trying to think of a way out of prison _tomorrow_ , for crying out loud, he should wait and gather information. He could picture Himchan shaking his head despairingly at his impatience, could hear Yongguk counseling him to learn as much as he could. This wasn't some backwater station's lockup he was trying to escape.

Still. If an opportunity _presented_ itself...

"If we could distract the Sentinels somehow, get them to converge somewhere away from the Infirmary--I have combat training." He even remembered some of it.

_"Think you're a match for NRA soldiers?"_ Junseo's tone suggested he was not convinced. Before Daehyun could respond, he went on a bit reluctantly. _"Though to tell you the truth, they aren't the most_ seasoned _group."_

So that was promising.

"Still need that distraction, though," Daehyun said. If even one Sentinel remained, he was sunk.

But _"I might be able to help with that,"_ Junseo said.


	20. Chapter 20

Jongup hadn't been planetside in years. After a life spent on climate-controlled ships and stations, he'd forgotten what real cold felt like.

He was not a fan.

He stood on Albatross's ramp, peering out at the moon Himchan had set them down on. Everything he could see was either gray or green. They were on the outskirts of a small settlement, which was a testament to terraforming run amok.

Plant life had flourished to an almost grotesque degree; what Jongup first took to be a series of giant hedges turned out to be buildings that had been overrun with twisting vines and branches. The ground was covered in the same green tangle, and Jongup couldn't help wondering how long it would take Albatross to be similarly obscured.

He tensed at footsteps behind him, and immediately hated himself. Himchan hadn't been any different with him since his confession but Jongup's guilt over not being able to say the words back had him turning inward. He wasn't sure how much the other man had noticed; he wasn't showing it, but Himchan had always been able to read him better than anyone.

He tried to cover his own awkwardness: "It's weird there's so much plant life when it's so cold, isn't it?"

"Cold and _damp_ ," Himchan agreed. Mist hung in the air, a gray haze. He stepped off the ramp and looked down thoughtfully, then kneeled, hands disappearing into the growth. Jongup had the urge to yank him back, suddenly certain the plants would pull him under.

Of course they did nothing of the sort. "It's hot," Himchan said in surprise, rising. "The ground is hot--I guess that makes sense."

"Does it?" Jongup tried to recall what he'd learned about terraforming as a kid. He hadn't paid much attention; machines had always been his real area of interest.

Himchan returned to his side, wiping his palms on his pants. "Yeah. Not much sunlight gets through since there's so much atmospheric interference from the nebula--that's why it's cold. But terraforming sends the heat directly into the planet, starts up the core. That heat acts as energy for the plants, but they aren't going to go far from it--see how everything's low to the ground?"

It was true there were no trees Jongup could see; simply a green fuzz over everything.

"The buildings give energy, too?" he asked.

"Probably designed that way," Himchan said with a shrug. "Smart, really; the plants probably provide extra insulation. It's fucking freezing. Let me grab coats and we can go."

Jongup let him, turning over the question of the building design in his mind. It helped having a puzzle to focus on, helped push aside the thought of what--of _who_ \--they were hoping to find in one of those furry green humps.

"Here." Himchan returned with a pair of grey coats Jongup vaguely remembered him insisting they equip the shuttle with. _Never know what we'll run into in this thing,_ he'd said with a grin. As usual, he'd been right. Jongup slipped his on, marveling at the warmth the thin garment provided. He found Himchan watching him, dark eyes serious. "You ready?"

Jongup was tempted to laugh hysterically. _Ready_ , please. He wasn't sure he'd ever be ready for this. But he only nodded.

The ground felt strange under him, the warmth seeping in through his boots, the surface uneven, the plants trying to trip them up.  It was slow-going; they had to unhook their boots from the viney tangle every few steps.

"Do you know where we're going?" Jongup asked. They were almost to the first of the buildings, and he was finally getting the hang of this walking thing.

"Jin said she has a lab around here..." Himchan pulled out a small scanner and frowned at its readings for a beat. "There's a lot of interference," he muttered. "But--this way, I think."

They made for a cluster of low buildings at the end of the block. Jongup tried to concentrate on not tripping, tried to keep breathing, tried not to hope too hard for anything.

"It could be any of these three," Himchan said, slowing. "Should we split up?"

Jongup's hand darted out to capture his sleeve. "No," he said quickly. Whatever might happen when--if--they really found his mother, he didn't think he could face it without Himchan. "No, can we--?"

Himchan unhooked his hand gently and squeezed it.

"Okay," he said simply. "Should we start on the left and make our way over?"

Jongup gave a jerky nod. He was squeezing Himchan's hand too hard, but he couldn't make himself let go, and Himchan wasn't pulling away either. They went in.

*

The lab had his mother all over it. Jongup recognized the layout, remembered her preferred equipment setups. He would have bet Cheonsa that she'd designed the place.

She wasn't in the building on the left. If it were any other day, any other mission, Jongup would have had trouble moving on. The mechanic in him longed to see what projects were in the works. But his heart was beating a few steps ahead, all but motioning at him to _hurry the fuck up, what are you waiting for?!_

"She's here," he told Himchan. "This is all...her."

There were a few engineers at work who glanced at them with curiosity or disinterest, but no one spoke to them. They were under the thumb of Woo Hansol; they'd know by now not to ask questions.

"Let's see what's behind door number two," Himchan said.

The second lab was more of the same. Mechanic Jongup wanted to explore everything, Son Jongup was just managing not to start yelling for his mother like a kid.

And then she was there.

Jongup stopped at the sight of the woman across the room. She was turned away so he couldn't see her face, but he recognized the way she worked, all smooth efficiency. Her hair was graying in its low messy twist--it had been short the last time he saw her. But it was her, he was sure of it.

Himchan followed his gaze and his hand sought his out.

"C'mon." He tugged Jongup after him. He felt like the plants were back under his feet, making him uncoordinated. If it weren't for Himchan, he was sure he'd fall.

They slowed to a stop a short distance behind the woman. She was hunched over a scanner, oblivious to their arrival.

Jongup couldn't speak. Again. There was a lot of that going on today. Himchan glanced at him, then at the woman. He cleared his throat.

"Moon Eunae?"

She didn't turn. "Who's asking?"

Her voice had the rasp she'd always developed on her lecture days, when she was talking to a class of hundreds for hours. It must be more from disuse or age now.

Jongup opened his mouth and nothing came out. Himchan squeezed his hand. Jongup nodded _right, hand, you're totally right, this would be a good time to say something_ \--and then couldn't.

His mother continued working for a beat, then let out a quiet sigh as she turned. "Spit it ou--"

Her eyes landed on Jongup and she stopped. Everything stopped.

New lines bracketed her mouth and creases fanned out from the corners of her eyes. Jongup couldn't stop staring at the vertical groove between her brows, the one that used to appear when he was in trouble.

It deepened now as she squinted at him, her expression disbelieving. She took a step toward him and stopped. Himchan gave his hand another squeeze and let go, his hand moving to the small of Jongup's back to give him a light push. Jongup made it a few steps before his legs stopped working.

"Umma?" he said.

She took a shuddering breath. Her face was forbidding. Then she was moving toward him quickly. He flinched, half-expecting a blow. Instead he found himself in an embrace so tight it hurt, not that he gave a shit about that right now.

Before he could regain use of his arms to hug her back, she released him, taking a step back to stare at him. Her thumb found the mole on his nose.

"They told me you were dead," she said. Her eyes were very bright but not teary. The Moons weren't a crying people.

"I'm not," Jongup said, with great wit and intelligence. "I was afraid you were."

Her lips quirked, her expression moving from fierceness to something softer.

"I'm not," she said. Jongup just nodded and stepped forward. She'd always been small but she was almost painfully thin now, and he had to stop himself hugging her as tightly as he wanted to, half-afraid she'd break. She stroked the back of his neck the way she had when he was a kid and sad or scared or sick and just wanting his mother. "Baby," she said quietly.

*

"BP's a little high," the medic said, frowning at Daehyun. He frowned back, mirroring her concern.

"I'm sorry, being in prison always makes me so _tense_ ," he said. She flushed slightly and turned away. The burly officer at the door glared at Daehyun, like being put-out at his situation was just _rude_. Daehyun ignored the glare, swinging his legs from the exam table in an effort to hide his nerves. He glanced sideways at the Sentinel in the corner. If it left the room, he'd know Junseo's plan had worked, and he'd only have to take out two people. Two armed people. Ha ha cool, no problem. At least he wasn't handcuffed.

Probably this wouldn't work. Probably his check-up would be over in a matter of minutes and he'd be escorted back to his cell. Probably he'd have _plenty_ of time to come up with a better, more sensible plan.

There was a sudden commotion at the door and a pair of NRA guards dragged in--Junseo. Daehyun's heart plummeted at the sight of him. There was a gash above his left eye that was bleeding impressively down his face.

"What happened?" the medic snapped, motioning to the exam table beside Daehyun's.

"Minjung saw him in his room feed; he was slamming his damn face into the wall," one of the guards said as they wrestled Junseo onto the cot. "Fucking lunatic."

Junseo stopped struggling and allowed them to handcuff him to the bed.

"I'm not crazy, I'm _bored_ ," he spat. "Just wanted a change of scenery." He glanced at Daehyun and winked.

"Choi, you know I would have gotten to you eventually," the medic said with exasperation. Daehyun just glared, tried to convey _what the hell are you doing besides_ ** _ruining everything_** with his eyes.

If he were totally honest, though, it was something of a relief. If Junseo were here, he couldn't cause the promised diversion. They would _have_ to plan things out more thoroughly. This was probably for the bes--

An alarm began to blare out. The soldiers tensed. The Sentinel whirred into action, moving towards the door. Daehyun's mouth dropped open.

"What the hell is that?" one of the men who'd brought in Junseo demanded, following the Sentinel out.

"Shit." The medic's burly bodyguard had tapped in to a station sensor on the wall. "How the hell--we've got atmosphere venting out of A block!"

It was lucky none of the officers were looking at Junseo, who was smirking mightily through all the blood. Daehyun didn't know whether he wanted to strangle him or give him a high-five.

The medic hurried over to join the guard. "How many prisoners in A-block?"

"Twenty-two. The 'bots are starting evacuation and repairs, but we've got reports of oxygen deprivation and the inmates closest the leak are probably in rough shape."

"We're trained for this," the medic reminded him crisply. "Triage, whoever was closest to the vent is our priority. These two can go back to behavior mod--"

The remaining guard next to Junseo nodded and began fiddling with his cuff.

"What about my head?" Junseo demanded loudly. The guard winced and Daehyun noticed his skin had an unhealthy pallor. Sick?

"Put some pressure on it," he told Junseo shortly, getting the restraint unlocked and reaching for a bandage from the supply table.

"Thanks a lot," Junseo said, and punched him. Or maybe kneed him in the balls first; he was _fast_ and Daehyun hadn't been expecting it. The guard groaned and keeled over, hand going for his blaster, but Junseo got there at the same time. They grappled for the weapon and all Daehyun could do was watch helplessly.

Then, _"Yah!"_ the burly guard was on the move, rushing over to break things up.

Daehyun didn't think. He stuck out his legs, tripping the larger man, and then he was on him, pushing him face-first to the floor. He heard a blaster go off somewhere above him and someone groaning, but he couldn't tell who'd been hit. It was taking all his strength to subdue the man under him, who was twice his size.

He managed to hook an arm around his neck and he squeezed and pulled up at once with all his strength. He was dimly aware that if Junseo had lost his fight, his guard would probably shoot Daehyun in the back of the head next. Blaster hits weren't usually fatal, but that much energy to the brain wouldn't do him any good, either.

Too late to worry about that now.

The guard under him gave a great heave, trying to shake him off. Daehyun hung on for dear life, ignoring the medic's shouts above him, muffled under the continued blare of the alarm.

Finally, _finally_ , the man went limp under him. Daehyun held out another breath, the slowly released his hold. He chanced a look up, came face-to-face with a blaster--well, kind of. Junseo cut a frightening picture, half his face covered in blood, the other half clear and glaring. He had his blaster aimed at the medic, whose hands were up, her face resigned.

"If you killed him--" she told Daehyun tightly. He unhooked the guard's blaster and stood.

"He'll come out of it in a few," he said. He looked back at Junseo. "This wasn't the plan."

"Couldn't have you leaving without me, could I?" Junseo said. "I'm not dumb enough to trust a Matoki."

Daehyun didn't have time to protest. He turned back to the medic.

"What now?" she asked flatly.

"Now you take us to your shuttle," Daehyun said.

*

"A helmet in a hallway," Youngjae repeated.

"Outside a locked door," Yongguk said. Youngjae gave him a skeptical look.

"And based on _that_ , Jin thinks there's a malfunctioning Sentinel on the sat ship? Couldn't it mean...you know, anything? Or nothing? Maybe they keep spare parts around in case one gets damaged and someone just forgot to put the extra helmet away."

As one, he and Yongguk turned to Junhong. He stood over his own armor, his own discarded helmet. He gave them a nonplussed look.

"How should I know?"

"Is that a serious question?" Youngjae asked. Junhong made himself smile at that, but it was hard. While technically, _obviously_ , he wouldn't trade having his own mind and memories back for anything, he couldn't help missing the ability to just _know_ the answer to every question. He was so uselessly human now.

Youngjae must have seen the hitch in his expression; his own turned quizzical. Junhong looked away, embarrassed. His ego wasn't the point.

He stared at the Sentinel armor, trying to think, trying to _remember_.

"Do you know what usually happens when a Sentinel malfunctions?" Yongguk asked.

"They get tagged OOP--out of pocket--and scrapped," Junhong said. "That was why I didn't turn on my transceiver when you guys found me. But just because that's the official protocol doesn't mean that's _actually_ what happens."

"And that's where we're fucked," Youngjae sighed. He was sitting cross-legged on the second empty exam table. He rested his chin in his hands, pouting slightly. "The NRA lies to their own people as much as they lie to everyone else."

Some knee-jerk defensiveness rose in Junhong's chest and he bit back a protest. Youngjae wasn't wrong.

He straightened his spine. Hell. He might not remember every NRA security code and protocol anymore, but he still had a pretty decent brain, if he did say so himself.

"Let's think about this," he said slowly. "The prison's manned by Sentinels and watched by a small team of officers on the sat ship. There've been more and more Sentinel malfunctions lately...Doesn't it seem like at least _some_ of that crew must know what the Sentinels really are? Wouldn't someone have to know what to look out for?"

Youngjae sat up straight. "So let's say there really is some self-aware Sentinel-guy on the sat ship. What do we...like, _do_ with that?"

"You mean does it change our plans?" Yongguk said. Youngjae shrugged, then nodded. Yongguk shrugged back.

"Everything you say makes sense," he told Junhong. "But we don't have any way to know for sure, so I don't know that we can use it."

"We should try to get them out," Junhong said. "The Sentinel. We shouldn't just leave them there."

He wasn't quite NRA, he couldn't call himself Matoki. Aside from Cheonsa's crew, he didn't think there was a group he belonged to as much as the Sentinels.

"Of course," Yongguk said. "If we can help, of course we will."

_As long as it doesn't get in the way of rescuing Daehyun,_ Junhong understood. He almost said it--snidely--before stopping himself, ashamed of the urge.

"Thanks," he muttered instead, unable to look at anyone. Maybe Yongguk looked at him strangely; he was afraid to check. After a beat, the captain moved toward the door.

"I'm on weapons check," he said.

*

Jongup had been afraid his mother wouldn't want to see him.

Judging from how tightly she was hugging him now, Himchan was willing to bet he'd been wrong.

He turned away from the pair, walked a short ways off. His throat felt so tight he was sure if he tried to speak his voice would come out fucked up, like he'd been sucking down helium.

It felt strange to be on the outside where Jongup was concerned. Even before they'd become a Them, before he'd put words--well, _word_ \--to feelings, he'd been the one Jongup turned to first in most things.

For the first time he wondered if that was about to change. _Family_ was a word both transcendent and utterly devoid of meaning. He remembered the facts of having one: he could remember his sister rousing him from bed, both of them cranky, griping at each other as they got ready in the dark before meeting their parents to do their first round of chores. His father, so often bemused at the noisy pair of children he'd helped produce. His mother--

But Himchan's mind pulled away from this thought so quickly it made his neck ache with phantom whiplash. No. He remembered the fact of his family. He no longer remembered how it felt to have one.

He heard his name and turned back. Eunae had Jongup's hand clasped in both of hers, and they were turned in Himchan's direction. He'd walked farther than he'd meant.

He hurried back now, glad for the distraction. Jongup was plenty distracting. Himchan didn't think he'd ever seen his expression so _lively_ before, and he pushed his own--envy, or whatever it was--away easily at the sight of it.

"This is Himchan," Jongup told his mother, and either there really was a note of pride in his voice or it was an auditory hallucination meant to pat Himchan on the back for his part in facilitating this reunion. "He's my--um--" He faltered--well, that was predictable--and Himchan's mind went unhelpfully blank as to what to say. Jongup's mother narrowed her eyes at him.

"You a Jackdaw?" she asked. Himchan pulled a face.

"Matoki--Commander Kim Himchan. It's an honor to meet you--Doctor?" He stuttered as he realized he didn't know. He couldn't imagine calling her _ajumma_ ; that was for the women he'd traded with at the morning market, friends of his parents, women who'd watched him grown up. They couldn't resemble Jongup's mother less. She was skin and muscle and bone. Maybe she'd been pretty once, maybe she'd had Jongup's full lips and glowing skin. Her mouth was tight now, her cheeks dull and hollowed. Only her eyes had retained their vitality, practically glittering as she gave him a once-over.

"Doctor," she repeated, as though the word were only vaguely familiar. "That's what my students used to call me. It seems a bit out of place here, doesn't it? I'm not much more than a mechanic these days."

Himchan's eyes darted to Jongup briefly.

"You passed that modesty onto your son," he said. "He's the best engineer I've ever met."

"Not anymore," Jongup said. "Umma--we need your help."

*

"What was that face for?"

Junhong almost jumped at the sound of Youngjae's voice behind him. Not because he hadn't known he was there--he seemed to have retained some of his Sentinel enhancements--but because he hadn't thought he'd speak. Junhong was supposed to be trying to figure out an effective blocking signal. So far he'd been staring at his old armor for six and a half minutes. It was a relief to turn and look at Youngjae instead.

"What face?"

Youngjae had his arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the wall. Junhong wanted to cage him between the wall and his own body, he wanted to lean in and _oh get a fucking grip Junhong is this really the time?_

Of course it wasn't the time. Clearly his hormones had been as repressed as his memories, lying dormant all these years only to spring forward now, voracious and, like, _super_ inappropriate.

"You gave Yongguk hyung the weirdest look when he said we'd try to help the Sentinel," Youngjae said. "You looked mad? Or--no? I'm still learning your Junhong expressions." He said this with a worried half-smile, as though he knew exactly how odd their situation was.

Junhong relaxed. He liked how straightforward Youngjae was; Junhong didn't have to guess what he was thinking and could just _be._

"I'm still remembering my Junhong feelings," he admitted. "I have no idea _what_ my face was doing."

Youngjae nodded slowly. He stepped away from the wall and towards Junhong until only his crossed arms separated them. Then he reached up towards his face.

"It was kind of like...this?" He pushed Junhong's eyebrows together. "Except you weren't smiling--stop that, you're ruining it now--"

Fuck it. Junhong tugged Youngjae's hand away from his face and leaned down to kiss him--just once, quickly. That was okay, right?

Judging from the slight flush to the medic's cheeks, and those damned dimples, it was.

"Seriously, though." Youngjae captured Junhong's other hand. "You okay?" His face turned serious again, searching, and how he even had the capacity to give a shit about Junhong on top of everything else that was happening was mind-boggling. It occurred to Junhong for the thirty-second time in two days that he really, really liked Yoo Youngjae.

"I'm good," he said quickly. "I mean I'm--kind of a giant mess but like overall--good."

"Uh huh. So the idea of taking on an NRA ship makes you feel...?" Youngjae prompted.

"Fine. Mostly fine." Junhong had probably been more than fine with it before he'd heard Himchan's account of the crew. They sounded young, like Junseo and his friends had been when they enlisted. Junhong couldn't reconcile the thought of them with the specter of the NRA that had created the Sentinels and made Junhong one of them.

"You know we're not gonna hurt anyone if we can help it, right?" Youngjae asked quietly. "Yongguk thinks we won't have to; he's trying to talk Jin into making a peaceful diversion without being super _obvious_ that's what he's talking him into."

"Will that work?"

"I don't know." Youngjae made a face. "I keep wanting Jin to be dumber than he is. Although actually, him being kind of smart might help in this case cause he'll know there's no benefit to pissing off the NRA more than we need to. If we can just get Dae out and slip off into the sunset--with the malfunctioning Sentinel if there is one--hopefully the NRA will be too busy trying to figure out what happened to come after us."

"And it's just tough luck for the rest of the Sentinels, huh?" Junhong said. He smiled so Youngjae would know he was kidding. Mostly. Kind of. The smile didn't do its job; Youngjae frowned.

"What are you--"

"I'm just--joking." Junhong turned away quickly, pretending to study the armor again.

"Even Zelo had a better sense of humor than that." Youngjae circled around him so he couldn't avoid him. "Junhong. You're--I mean, you're right."

Junhong looked up unwillingly. Youngjae looked troubled.

"The Sentinels--now we know wha--who--they are--but like breaking into that prison is one thing, starting some kind of-- _revolution_ \--"

"I know." Of course Junhong knew. What he was thinking about was pure fantasy--freeing the Sentinels. Where the hell would they even start? And who even said it was possible? "I didn't mean anything by it," he mumbled.

He could feel Youngjae's eyes on him, making him want to duck away.

"You know, when we first met you," Youngjae said finally. "We started talking about how we could... _use_ you." He grimaced apologetically. "Against the NRA. But then so much happened, and--We don't want to use you anymore, obviously, but--once this part's done? I think we should talk about it again."

There was no mocking in his voice, and Junhong could finally meet his eyes without squirming.

"Yeah?"

Youngjae smiled grimly. "Promise."

*

It was lucky Junseo was there. The medic tried to steer them through one of the main cell blocks, but the other inmate pulled them back.

"How many of your friends are down here?" he asked. "We take the back way."

The medic glowered, but with a longing look back, she reversed course.

"You know the layout of this place?" Daehyun muttered as they went. It felt good to have a blaster in his hand, but he was twitchy with nerves, which wasn't the best combo.

"Figured how to tap into my camera to see through the others around the prison ages ago. 'S how I knew to talk to you," Junseo murmured.

They peered around a corner and progressed silently. The alarms were somewhat muted here, the sounds of frantic activity fading comfortingly behind them.

"So what do we need her for?" Daehyun nodded to the medic. She scowled back.

"So their ship out there doesn't shoot us down," Junseo said. "You _do_ have a plan for when we get out of here, right?"

A plan?

"Of course," Daehyun said. "Hope and pray. But mostly theeese hands." He wiggled the fingers of his free hand. Junseo looked at him blankly and Daehyun wilted. "I mean--'cause I'm a great...pilot--oh look, the shuttle!" He seized on this development with relief, shaking off all Junseo's nay-saying. They were getting out of here, and they'd handle whatever came next when it showed up.

He turned to the medic to ask for the proverbial keys, and was discomfited to see her smiling slightly.

"What?" he demanded. Her smile vanished and she gave him a sullen glare. Daehyun checked the docking bay again just to be sure there were no Sentinels or officers lurking in the corners. But all was clear.

The medic input the security code to lower the ramp. Daehyun couldn't remember the last time he'd been in a ship so pristine (sorry Cheonsa, sorry Jongup). Flying this would be a genuine pleasure.

"You know what you're doing?" Junseo asked tersely as Daehyun settled himself at the controls. "Your ship's out there somewhere?"

"Oh, she definitely is," Daehyun said. "Doc, are there any security measures I should watch out for taking off?" He smiled at the medic--a real smile. He was in a cockpit, he was _doing_ something, he felt like himself again. "Look, we don't want to hurt you. We just want to go home."

She hesitated, then: "You need the code to release the docking clamps. Only our commander knows that."

Daehyun had barely decided which curse to use when Junseo spoke up.

"Medics have all the security clearance; that's protocol in case of an emergency. Give him the code."

She gave him a resentful look, but her code worked. The doors began to creep open. Daehyun's breath caught at his first glimpse of the stars in what felt like a year. The controls responded smoothly, the ship humming under them as it bore them out of the prison.

Daehyun sensed rather than heard Junseo's gasp; he glanced back at him to see--oh. He looked away quickly. He wouldn't begrudge the guy a moment of emotion; if what he'd said was true, he hadn't been in open space since the war.

But right: time to think.

"Your main ship," Daehyun said to the Doc. "We wanna avoid it, right, get away enough so I can contact mine--" He was hoping that might work, anyway. This whole thing could still blow up in his face if his friends had lost track of him completely. He needed them to be at least close- _ish_. He could outmaneuver the NRA as long as he nee--

A ship filled the viewscreen, impossibly fast. Daehyun swore and pulled up, hands flying across the controls. He was so good at this; this was what he'd been made for--

The other ship kept pace with him. It was back in front of them again. He dodged. Again. Again. Again.

It was, he realized, just _toying_ with them. He recalled the medic's smirk.

"What did you do," he growled, unable to take his eyes off the controls long enough to look at her. He could hear Junseo move, pull a blaster on her, maybe.

"It's not like no one ever dreamed this could happen," she said. "The security code I gave you notified our sat ship that this shuttle has been compromised."

Daehyun had no idea what a _sat ship_ was, but he knew it was kicking his ass. He'd never seen maneuverability like this before. If he weren't running for his life, he would have been impressed.

It filled the viewscreen once more. This time, the shuttle controls went unresponsive, Daehyun's commands useless.

He slumped back in his seat and looked up at Junseo.

"I think we need a new plan," he said.


	21. Chapter 21

Albatross was just as they'd left her. Jongup wasn't sure why he was surprised, except everything felt slightly unreal. He'd figured the shuttle would be covered in vines when they returned, since it seemed like another life that they'd landed.

"Jongup designed her," Himchan was telling his mother, shifting his armload of supplies. He was sweating, despite the cold. They all were. Jongup hadn't noticed on the way out, but carrying so much equipment back from the lab, it was clear that the gravity on the moon was stronger than they were used to. He caught the hitch in Himchan's expression betraying his discomfort, noticed the scanner digging into his injured shoulder. Fuck.

Jongup knew better than to fret over this in front of his mother--he wasn't sure how to explain Himchan to her what with their current state of Jongup-is-a-petrified-speechless-dumbface...ness--and he consoled himself that at least Youngjae and the medbay were only a short trip away.

He caught his mother watching him expectantly.

"What?"

She didn't blink at his lapse in concentration--oh right, she _knew_ him.

"The shuttle--?" She prompted as Himchan lowered the ramp. Jongup flushed. 

"Himchan helped a lot," he murmured.

"With the construction, not the design." Himchan gave his mother a solicitous smile, motioning her inside ahead of him. He caught Jongup's eye as she went, eyebrows lifting: _You okay?_ Jongup shrugged. Nodded. Shook his head. How was he supposed to know. Himchan gave him a wry smile and followed him in.

Eunae had put down her stack of equipment and was surveying the shuttle's interior. Oh God, if anyone could spot every design flaw in the ship, it was her. Jongup put down his own armload hurriedly and turned to Himchan to lift the scanner off his shoulder. Himchan gave a hiss of pain or relief, but before Jongup could speak, his mother was asking about Cheonsa.

"And where exactly is your ship?"

"Not far," Himchan told her. "Just inside the nebula."

"And you're working with the Jackdaws," she said, a bit stiffly, frowning at Jongup. He could sense the familiar censure, could feel the sharp edge of their old fights pressing against his throat.

He'd tried to explain back in the lab--he wasn't a Jackdaw anymore, hadn't been among them for years, this was just a temporary and unwelcome development--but there was so much they needed her help with _now_ that the past five years needed to take a backseat.

"Only as long as they're useful," Himchan said grimly. He continued under his breath as he turned away towards the cockpit. "Jin's hanging on by a thread as it is--" Then, louder, "Why don't you two get comfortable back here, I'll have us back soon--"

Eunae rounded on Jongup.

"Jin?" she repeated sharply. Jongup winced. Jin had been his constant companion those last years. Seeing him again would only remind his mother of how angry she'd been at _him_. He wondered if there was some way to keep them apart when they got back to Cheonsa.

He pulled her down on the bench beside him, sparing a glare for the blaster mark still scorching the wall.

"It's his fault this whole thing happened. We're keeping him around until he helps us fix it."

He couldn't read her expression. Like okay, anger, obviously. That had been her baseline since they were taken. She'd made the face so long it stuck. He just wasn't sure what else was roiling under the surface, what other memories of Jin he didn't share.

"He's an asshole," he offered. His mother started, lost some of her inward look, then pinched his ear.

"Language."

He couldn't help smiling. The _ear pinch_ , how had he forgotten? He'd gotten it so many times as a kid that his ear had had a permanent divot.

"I learned it from you."

She snorted. "Just one of many ways I failed you." She took his hand, turning it over in hers and studying it. He nudged her.

"You did not."

She was tracing the callouses that had hardened his palms years ago.

"You joined the Jackdaws. Of course I failed you."

And there it was. Even now, Jongup bristled at the implication that he'd joined them because he'd _wanted_ to.

"It was either that or leave you to die," he snapped, pulling his hand away. "I know what deal you were trying to make with the boss."

She looked up at this, eyes narrowing.

"You knew?" she repeated. "You-- _tch_." She made a small angry sound. "Of course you knew. I won't apologize for that. I'm your mother, it was my job to protect you."

"You're my mother, it was your job to keep us _together_ ," Jongup shot back.

"Jongup-ah." Himchan's voice from the front of the shuttle cut through the tension. "Give me a hand for a second?"

Jongup didn't take his eyes off his mother. Finally she blinked and nodded at the cockpit.

"Go on, then."

He went, stopping just behind the pilot's seat. "What's wrong?" He looked over the controls for any telltale red lights and found none.

"Nothing," Himchan said quietly. "Just--take a minute."

It took a beat to realize what he meant, then Jongup flushed. He must have heard them. True to form, he'd known Jongup needed a break before Jongup did; only now did he feel the way his chest had gone painfully tight with tension. He hadn't felt his hands curling into fists.

He breathed deep and leaned over Himchan's shoulder as though looking at the controls. "Thanks."

Himchan hummed. "S'okay."

"I can't believe I'm fighting with her already. What the hell is wrong with me?" Jongup muttered, shame heating his cheeks. Seriously, this time yesterday he'd thought she was _dead_ and here they were.

"Families fight, Jongup-ah," Himchan said gently. "You two have a lot to talk out is all." He sounded so calm, so _sure,_ that Jongup found himself relaxing. He shifted his body slightly so his mother wouldn't see him slide his hand down Himchan's chest. He let his fingers dip under his shirt collar to the warm skin beneath.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Never better."

"Hyung..." His fingers found the edge of the bandage on Himchan's injured shoulder. Youngjae hadn't bothered to dermal-gen that one. By all rights Himchan should be resting right now.

"I'll get some pain meds when we get back," Himchan said, capturing Jongup's hand and pressing his fingers to his lips before releasing him. Jongup traced the back of his neck with his thumb, watched him shiver in response. If he was thinking about pain meds he must really be hurting; he could be annoyingly stoic about such things.

"Good," he said.

He gave his good shoulder a gentle squeeze before retreating to the rear of the shuttle. He found his mother on the floor in front of a panel she'd prized open. The light from it set her face to glowing orange.

"How long did it take you to find the parts to cobble this together?" she asked without looking around. Jongup willed himself not to get defensive. He joined her on the floor and peered at the circuitry in question.

"Almost six months," he recalled. "Himchan hyung finally found the last bits on a salvage job we did." He glanced at her sideways, holding his breath.

"You did well, considering what you had to work with," she said. High praise coming from her. Before Jongup could really enjoy it, she changed the subject. "I don't want to fight with you."

"I don't want to fight with you, either."

She swiveled to face him. She was so _compact_ ; Jongup hadn't realized how accustomed he was to being the smallest guy around. His mother seemed to take up no physical space at all. She was studying him again in a hungry kind of way.

"This crew of yours," she said at last, nodding toward the cockpit. "They're good people?"

Jongup nodded. "They aren't just my crew. They're my friends." Guilt welled up in him. "I'm sorry I stopped looking for you. I was afraid you were dead but I wasn't _positive_ \--"

She shook her head. "You got out," she said hoarsely. "You built a ship. You...made friends." She shook her head, laughing a little, the sound of it harsh as though she were out of practice. "All this time I thought you were dead. This?" She gestured around the shuttle. "Is so much more than I even let myself hope for you. You think I'd want you to risk any of it for me?"

He could hardly doubt her sincerity, though it didn't make him feel much better. But there wasn't much point in beating himself up over it now. 

There came a beeping from the cockpit. His mother tensed and Jongup leaned around her.

"Hyung?"

"Proximity alert," Himchan called back calmly. "We're almost home."

*

"They're bringing his _mother_ back? Now?" Youngjae repeated. "How did I miss this?"

"You've been preoccupied?" Yongguk suggested. His eyes very determinedly did not slide to Junhong. "Anyway, she's supposed to be a genius, she should be able to help."

"Help would be good," Youngjae muttered. He still felt off-balance, and not just because he was pretty sure Junhong was exerting greater gravity than anything else in the room. Jongup's _mother_. This was a concept he hadn't been prepared for.

"Is yours alive?" he blurted out, turning on Junhong as this possibility occurred to him. "Your mother?"

Junhong blanched. "I hope so," he said quietly. "I don't know."

Of course, of _fucking course he doesn't know, Youngjae you idiot_.

"Right," he said shamefacedly. "Sorry."

Junhong just gave him a painful-looking smile and shook his head. Youngjae searched for something un-awkward to say, then decided fuck it.

"What's she like, though?" he asked. They had a little time to kill before Albatross docked. He glanced at Yongguk, who'd taken a seat at the table to pick through some leftover noodles. He looked exhausted but curious at this line of questioning.

"Um. She was a teacher," Junhong said slowly. "I guess she and Jongup's mom have that in common. She was really good at it, she was always everyone's favorite in school. They all felt sorry for me because I could never be in her class."

Yongguk smiled faintly. "Would she have favored you if you were?"

"No." Junhong snorted. "She was so much easier on everyone else." His eyes had a faraway look. Youngjae wanted to pull him back, or maybe follow. But then Junhong blinked and was back suddenly, meeting his eyes. "What about yours?" he asked.

Ah, of course, the natural next question. Youngjae should have seen this coming.

"Dead," he said, and added hastily, "A long time ago. She got sick when I was a kid. I don't really remember her." He said this without a trace of self-pity. It sucked, but the sense of loss didn't match what he felt when he thought of his brother, father, friends, everyone who'd been killed in the war.

Junhong seemed to understand this without him saying so, merely bumping his shoulder softly.

"Was that why you became a medic?" he asked. Youngjae opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again.

"It wasn't quite that...linear," he said. "Or maybe it was." How much was he supposed to say? "I got into it after the first attack on Mato. The firestorms in the capitol...they needed anyone who could help."

He felt Junhong's eyes on him, his fresh concern. "You were there?"

Youngjae was pretty sure he could still conjure the smell of burning ~~people~~ city if he put his mind to it. He turned his mind studiously away and nodded.

"That's an _another day_ story, I think," he said, smiling so Junhong would know he wasn't upset with him. Junhong's frown deepened but he nodded, turning to Yongguk.

"What about you, Captain?" He stuttered a little on the _Captain_ and Yongguk smiled.

"I'm your hyung too, you know," he said. Junhong flushed and Youngjae's heart abruptly filled with glitter and rainbows. Yongguk was the best.

At the same time, though, he realized he didn't know the answer to Junhong's question. He didn't know anything about Yongguk's family beyond the fact that they were dead. Hadn't he had a brother? Youngjae strained to remember. This suddenly felt very important. How could he know someone so well without knowing anything _about_ him?

"My mother was strict," Yongguk said slowly. "She was very...admirable, I suppose."

It was a strangely muted answer. Youngjae opened his mouth to follow up but Yongguk's radio gave a squawk and Jin's voice came through.

_"Permission to come aboard, Cap'n."_

Yongguk pulled a face and heaved himself to his feet.

"Be back. Jae, do me a favor and check on Albatross, will you?"

"Course." Youngjae motioned for Junhong to join him on the way to the 'pit.

"I hope I didn't upset him," Junhong said quietly. "His mother...was it...us? The NRA, I mean. Did they...?"

They ducked into the cockpit and Youngjae slid into Daehyun's seat. With a pang, he realized he was getting used to seeing it empty.

He pulled up the scanner, spotted the blip that was Jin's shuttle, heading for the hangar bay, and the prettier-if-only-in-his-head blip that was Albatross, almost home. He turned to face the younger man, who looked even more comically oversized than usual in the low-ceilinged cockpit.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't really...know anything about hyung's family?"

"How come?" Junhong asked. "Isn't that stuff kind of...basic?"

"You'd think," Youngjae muttered. He tried to think how to explain it. "Everyone lost so much in the war. Talking about family...it just...hurts. So we don't."

Junhong rolled his jaw ruminatively. It was a habit, Youngjae had noticed. It made him look cute, pouty. But then if he was honest with himself, he kind of _always_ thought Junhong looked cute.

"But I want to know you," he told Youngjae finally. "I don't want you to be sad, but I want to _know_ you. You know?"

Youngjae was emphatically not-sad about this. He also felt a little like crying. Well, that was a thing he did sometimes. Junhong would see it sooner or later.

_Later_ , he told himself sternly, willing his emotions to take a fucking coffee break for a minute, yeesh.

"Yeah," he said. "So do I. We can do that. Just--when things calm down a little, okay?"

He thought it might be time for _all_ of them to sit down and actually talk about all this. Their longstanding policy to wall off the war might not, on reflection, be the healthiest. Go figure.

Junhong nodded eagerly as the proximity alarm sounded and the ship was hailed. Himchan's voice filled the 'pit.

_"Cheonsa, anyone home?"_

Youngjae hit the radio to respond. "Docking bay's open, hyung." Best to keep the two shuttles apart for now. He turned back to Junhong. "This should be interesting."

*

Moon Eunae looked like Jongup, except angrier. Youngjae supposed he couldn't blame her; if he'd been through half of what she had, he'd be pretty pissed, too. So he didn't take her glare too personally when Jongup introduced them, nor the suspicious way she looked around Cheonsa's docking bay.

"And this is Junhong," Jongup continued. His mother took Junhong's hand and shook it, then didn't let go, grasping his wrist with her other hand and turning it gently to see the implant on his forearm.

"Beautiful," she murmured. Junhong grimaced.

"Umma, give him his arm back," Jongup said. She looked up, seeming to remember the other people in the room, and released him, stepping back.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking embarrassed. "I'm out of practice being in...polite company."

Junhong gave her a small smile. "They aren't all that polite here, either."

"Yah--" Himchan mimed cuffing his head playfully, then winced.

"Pain killers," Jongup said immediately, nodding at Youngjae.

"I'm fine."

"Pain killers," Jongup repeated. His mother was watching this exchange with interest. Youngjae made a mental note to ask Himchan how meeting her had gone. He was willing to put all his credits on _awkward_.

Before they could advance into the next stage of bickering or segue into flirting, the hatch opened behind them and Yongguk entered with Jin.

"Our captain," Jongup told his mother in a low voice. She nodded, but Youngjae could see her narrowed eyes fixed on Jin. The Jackdaw smirked at the sight of her. Jongup ignored his presence completely. "Yongguk hyung, this is--"

It happened fast.

Yongguk was striding forward to greet her. Eunae stepped up to him--for a moment Youngjae confusedly thought she was going to hug him--but then she was tugging the blaster from his belt and turning it on Jin.

She fired three times fast, catching the Jackdaw square in the chest, the throat, the face. He didn't have time to cry out as he went down. Yongguk got an arm around Eunae's middle, a hand around her wrist before she could get out a fourth shot. Youngjae caught sight of Jongup's face, white and stunned, before turning to the fallen man. Jackdaw or not, Youngjae was his best hope.

Or not. He ignored the sounds of struggle behind him as he dropped to his knees at Jin's side. He could see at a glance that he was dead. At such close range, the blaster had torn his throat wide open. There was nowhere left to seek a pulse.

He looked up to find someone had wrestled the weapon out of Eunae's grasp. Yongguk had let her go; she stood between him and Himchan. Jongup had his hands raised in a placating manner, but Youngjae wasn't sure who the gesture was meant for. The mechanic met his eyes.

"He's dead," Youngjae said.

He didn't have it in him to feel sorry, exactly. He could see a similar war waging in his friends' expressions.

"He was our link to the Jackdaws," Yongguk said after a beat, his face darkening. "His ship is just outside the nebula. Do you have any idea what you've done?" He glared at Eunae, who lifted her chin.

"He lied to me, told me my son was dead. Boss Woo will grant me forbearance."

"Forbear--what?"

"It's a Jackdaw thing," Jongup spoke up quietly. "They aren't so big on...courts. Basically you can kill someone, so long as you can convince your boss they deserved it."

"That's a nifty society they've got there," Himchan muttered.

Yongguk seemed to be getting himself under control with an effort. He glanced at Jin's body, then back at Eunae.

"That isn't how it works on this ship," he said. "I'd rather you don't perform any more executions while you're here. Whether we like it or not, we need the Jackdaws' help."

Jongup had moved closer to Youngjae. His expression was complicated as he stared down at the ruin that had been Jin a moment before. Youngjae could see Himchan wanting to go to him but holding himself back.

"I'll talk to Woo," Jongup said. He looked at Yongguk. "I'll make her case. We stick to the plan."

Yongguk studied him, then nodded and turned to Eunae.

"Good. We still need your help."

"I brought some equipment. It shouldn't be a problem." She spoke calmly, as though she hadn't just killed someone. As if his body weren't still cooling on the floor in front of them. Youngjae understood that Jin had been an asshole. It didn't matter; everything in him cried out that this was wrong.

He flinched at a hand on his shoulder; he hadn't noticed Junhong's approach. He reached up blindly and the taller man tugged him gently to his feet.

"That _polite company_ thing's still a work in progress, I guess," Youngjae said.

*

They'd cuffed him this time. Daehyun would have been more concerned, but at the moment he was distracted by the ship that had drawn the shuttle into its docking bay.

"Can I meet your pilot?" he asked as he and Junseo were escorted through the halls at gunpoint. "I've never _seen_ flying like that. I mean, I've never seen a ship capable of it, either."

"Shut up," Junseo muttered. Daehyun ignored him. It helped to focus on the details and ignore the big picture right now.

"Seriously, I'm impressed," he said earnestly, looking around at their captors.

"Just walk," the medic told him.

He walked.

They were marched into a brig with three barred cells. They each got their own, but they could still see out, so Daehyun's lungs kept working.

He sat on the bunk because his knees felt watery and no one said not to. The medic and other guards retreated to the door, talking in low voices. Daehyun glanced over at Junseo. He was pacing the length of his cell slowly.

"What now?" Daehyun asked.

"You're asking me?"

"You're NRA. What should we expect?"

Junseo glowered at the cluster by the door. "Interrogation."

Terrific. Before Daehyun could respond, the group parted to allow another man into the brig. Daehyun didn't need to see the insignia on his chest to know he was the man in charge.

He was short but broad, and handsome in a boring kind of way. He studied the prisoners for a beat before turning back to his colleagues.

"Soomin-ah, you all right?" he asked quietly, though his voice carried to Daehyun clearly enough. The medic nodded once. The commander turned back and approached the cells, standing at the point between the two, glaring from Daehyun to Junseo and back again.

"You know, I really didn't need this today," he said. They didn't reply and he sighed. "My name is Nam Hyunsik, I'll be your jailor this evening. Jung Daehyun," he said, turning on the pilot. "How did you enjoy our shuttle?"

"Handles like a dream," Daehyun said promptly. "I'd be more interested in flying _this_ thing, though." He sounded glib but he meant it. He was halfway in love with the ship already, though he had a hunch it was destined to be a dysfunctional relationship.

"You're in our books as a war criminal," Hyunsik commented. Daehyun's stomach flopped. He'd never quite gotten used to that. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Junseo go still. Hyunsik continued blithely, "You killed--how many Alliance civilians was it again?"

"That was never proven," Daehyun said, because he didn't see how his usual self-flagellations on the subject would help him here. "That wasn't the mission. And I already served my time."

"You served a partial sentence before a Matoki strike force liberated you," Hyunsik corrected.

"In retaliation for you guys doing the same thing first," Daehyun snapped. He was well aware that his freedom had been a tactical move, nothing more. He'd gotten lucky.

Hyunsik studied him for a long beat before turning to the next cell.

"Choi Junseo," he said.

"You gonna list my crimes, sir?" Junseo said, leaning against the bars. "Seems to me when telling the truth lands you in prison, there's something rotten in the Alliance."

Hyunsik looked discomfited for the first time. "It's not my job to decide on the sentence," he said. "Just to keep anyone from sneaking out early."

Junseo nodded. "Just so you know, _your job_? Is a pretty lousy excuse for some bullshit. I have some experience with this."

Hyunsik narrowed his eyes but only motioned between the two of them. "And how'd you two team up?"

Junseo glanced at Daehyun, who shrugged. "You know how it goes. Prison gets so boring but you get to know people so _fast_. And we had a lot to talk about, namely how the Sentinels are human."

Hyunsik flinched and glared at Junseo, who raised both hands. "It wasn't me."

Not to be petty, but Daehyun couldn't help enjoying the commander's surprise. Or maybe he was comforted that he was _showing_ it; it made Nam Hyunsik seem like a person. The NRA used to frown on that sort of thing. All his former captors had been so damned unflappable.

"It's true, I figured that one out on my own," he told him. "It's kind of fucked up, if you don't mind me saying."

Hyunsik looked well and truly wrong-footed now. He glanced back at Soomin, who just shook her head mutely.

"How--it doesn't matter." Hyunsik stopped himself with a shake of his head. "Save it for the tribunal."

"The what?"

The commander massaged his temple. He had dark circles under his eyes, Daehyun noticed, just like the guard Junseo had taken out in the infirmary. Were they all sick?

"You really know how to mess up a guy's day," Hyunsik said. "You idiots tripped some alarm in the Sentinels, automatically transmitted to the nearest station. They'll be sending out a force to make sure the prison's secure. I'm about to be up to my ass in oversight in a few hours here, thanks to you two."

Daehyun sat up straighter and exchanged a look with Junseo. He read his expression easily enough: _Oops_.

So much for escape. It had been a long shot in the first place; if even more NRA soldiers were on the way, it would be damn near impossible. Daehyun's heart sank straight through the floor. Panic was trying to rise up in its place, to fill his chest and constrict his breath. They were going to lock him up again, maximum security this time, no more cellmate or meals with the other prisoners. It would be like the war all over again.

Hyunsik was speaking to the guards now, oblivious to Daehyun's distress.

"Make sure everything's on lockdown before they get here; if we're lucky we can all keep our jobs. Soomin, I think I'll take that hangover cure now. Himchan had a heavy hand."

Daehyun's head jerked up.

"Never let the sober guy pour your drinks," the medic replied, smiling ruefully. "You aren't the only one hurting today."

Himchan? Daehyun's heart changed from panicked pounding to a hopeful clamor. _Himchan_. He hadn't heard that wrong. Himchan wasn't all that common a name, really.

He caught Junseo looking at him curiously and tried to school his expression. He would definitely put off jumping up and down for the moment, although it was tough. Himchan had been here. Cheonsa must be close, and they must have a plan. They hadn't forgotten him.

"Yeah, well everyone smarten up. Protocol states they'll send a strike force in response to the Sentinel alert," Hyunsik was saying, stopping Daehyun's mental celebrations short.

"I hate those guys," one of the other guards muttered. "They're so full of themselves."

"Keep it to yourself," Hyunsik advised, not without sympathy. "Just humor them and hope they'll be out of our hair soon. Better run a security review in the meantime, too; they'll be asking about our guests here."

He left, but Daehyun barely noticed. Fuck. His friends had some kind of plan and now, thanks to his impatience, they would have an NRA strike force to contend with.

"What's with you?" Junseo asked quietly.

"I think I fucked up," Daehyun said.

Soomin was still in earshot. She gave him an exasperated look. "You're just getting that now?"

*

Yongguk clearly needed a minute to restore his temper and Jongup still looked shaken, so Himchan took Eunae to the engine room to get to work.

"Jin deserved what he got," she told him when they were out of earshot of the others. Himchan had a feeling she was trying to convince herself.

"No argument here," he assured her. "I'm a little disappointed we couldn't play rock-paper-scissors for the honor, but--" He broke off as he led their ascent to the next level, his shoulder throbbing painfully with every ladder rung he climbed.

"What'd he do to _you_?" Eunae asked, following him up.

"He shot me a couple times," Himchan offered, lifting the edge of his shirt so she could see the pink corner of his wound. "Although that actually turned out to be helpful. It's more what he did to Jongup for all those years--Engine room's through here--"

He ducked in and waved an arm in a _tah-dah_! kind of way. Eunae ignored this, focusing on him instead.

"What exactly are you to my son?" she asked.

Himchan let his arm drop to his side. He pictured the hopeful-terrified-confused look Jongup had given him when he'd confessed in the med bay.

"You'd have to ask him that."

She didn't seem displeased by this answer. "What is he to you, then?"

That was an easy one. He shrugged.

"Everything."

An easy, if not especially _comfortable_ thing to admit at the moment. Himchan didn't give her a chance to respond. As long as she didn't shoot him, this was fine. "So he designed our whole engine, basically, and it's worth a look because it's amazing," he said. "But first we need your help with this." He waved her over to the workspace Jongup had set up.

She continued to study him for a long beat before turning her attention to the chip as Himchan explained their plan. He thought it was a promising sign that she didn't immediately shoot it down as impossible. Her eyes lit up for the first time, her resemblance to Jongup stronger than ever.

"This signal boost you're looking for," she said. "When do you need it ready?"

"I mean. Ideally, like, yesterday."

She quirked an eyebrow _(Jongup Jongup Jongup)._

"I'll see what I can do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's about time we got Daehyun back, don't you? Next time.


	22. Chapter 22

Woo Hansol still made Jongup feel like a kid. The boss strode into Cheonsa's medbay as if he'd been there a hundred times and stopped at the table with Jin's body. He lifted the sheet wordlessly and looked under it for a beat before his eyes found Jongup across the room.

Jongup held himself still under his scrutiny. Woo's eyes moved past him to Yongguk and Youngjae.

"This was one my best," he said calmly. He looked at Jongup again. "Your mother's seeking forbearance?"

Jongup lifted his chin. "He told her I was dead. She was a little pissed."

Woo let out a soft snort. "And now you hide her from me to protect her from retribution. You should know better, boy. If I wanted her dead you couldn't stop me."

It was a good thing Himchan wasn't here. Jongup doubted he'd be able to resist the challenge in the Woo's voice. It was why Jongup had asked him to stay with Eunae in the engine room--Kim Himchan and Jackdaws did not mix.

Yongguk didn't so much as twitch at the threat, though Woo's ship outside Cheonsa was much bigger than Jin's modest freighter had been. If he decided to take Eunae--or Jongup himself--back, there _wasn't_ all that much they could do.

Woo moved around the table, closer. Jongup felt Yongguk tense.

"At ease, Captain," Woo told him, smiling. The smile didn't reach his eyes, flat and black over a neat beard now threaded with silver, the only sign he'd aged at all since Jongup saw him last. "Truth is, if she hadn't killed Jin, I might have."

This didn't track. Jongup frowned. "Why?"

Woo stopped in front of him. "He told _me_ you were dead," he said. "Stopped us going after you."

Jongup's mind gave an unhelpful _whuh?_ as he tried to work through this.

"You'd care that much about one boy?" Yongguk said skeptically.

"I cared that much about what _this_ boy's mother could do for _me_ ," Woo corrected. "Eunae was useless for years after that. Had to put her down planetside; she went all catatonic when she heard he was gone."

Jongup winced. Just a little more guilt to save for later.

"We had a deal with your people," Yongguk said.

"Jin told me," Woo said. "So, someone finally cracked the mystery of the Sentinels." He gave Jongup a dry smile. "Humans. That's twisted. Your mother figuring out what makes them tick?"

Jongup shrugged. "We'll see."

"And I suppose you want me to honor Jin's agreement." He sounded amused, which Jongup knew from experience didn't mean he actually was.

"Yes," he said. Woo shook his head and his heart sank.

"Help you break your man out of prison," Woo said. "It's a bit small-time, isn't it?"

"Meaning?" Yongguk said. Woo turned back to him.

"The Sentinels changed everything once. What we know about them now could change it again. Unless you're too chickenshit to use it."

Yongguk accepted the taunt without the slightest change in expression. Jongup's eyes caught on Youngjae as he shifted, looking suddenly guilty.

Woo didn't look away from the captain, awaiting his response.

"All we know right now is what they are," Yongguk said. "With Eunae's help, maybe we can learn how they work. That'd be a lot more useful. Consider this mission a trial run before the real deal."

*

Yongguk breathed a bit easier with Woo Hansol off his ship. The Jackdaw had agreed to their terms--for now. Yongguk hadn't needed to ask Jongup to understand that if things went south, Cheonsa would probably be on their own.

He couldn't worry about it yet. For things to go wrong, they had to _go_ , period.

The sight that greeted him in the engine room was familiar, with a twist. Today it was a different Moon than usual engrossed in their work while Himchan watched.

He looked up as Yongguk came in. Eunae didn't seem to notice. Yongguk beckoned Himchan over.

"How's it going?" he asked quietly.

"I think she's making progress," Himchan said. Yongguk could hear the hope in his voice.

"Really?"

Himchan nodded. "The equipment we brought back from her lab is amazing, she was able to synthesize a scanner to--do a thing--" He stopped and made a face. "Honestly, Bbang, I don't know what the hell she's doing. I thought Jonguppie was incomprehensible with this tech stuff but she's a million times worse."

"You know i can hear you, right?" Eunae said without looking up.

"Stop eavesdropping," Himchan shot back, and Yongguk saw the engineer smirk. He tugged his friend out into the corridor.

"Seems like you're getting along," he observed. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, she _was_ Jongup's mother, and she'd killed a man who very much deserved it. On the other, Yongguk wasn't such a fan of her method of execution. It had struck him as singularly unsportsmanlike.

Himchan gave a one-sided shrug and Yongguk's eyes narrowed.

"Did you ever get any pain meds from Youngjae?"

"Those things put me to sleep," Himchan complained. "I'll take something after."

"Take something now," Yongguk said, attempting to steer him toward the medbay. "We have some time and you could _use_ the sleep."

"Look who's talking."

"I wasn't _shot_ today. Twice."

"Technically that was yesterday, I think. I'm losing track. What happened with Woo?"

Yongguk described the meeting and Himchan turned serious.

"Where's Jongup?" he asked.

"I told him to go to bed. I didn't think he actually would," Yongguk admitted.

Himchan frowned."Do me a favor?"

Yongguk sighed. "I'll keep her company, yeah." Himchan turned on his heel to walk away. "Get those pain meds already," Yongguk called after him.

"Pain meds can wait," Himchan said.

*

Jongup meant to go from the medbay to the engine room but Yongguk stopped him with some nonsense about sleep.Jongup had protested--he should help his mother--but part of him was shamefully relieved to escape.

She'd _killed_ Jin. It kept hitting him. Any hopes he'd harbored that she had made it through these years alone unscathed had been shattered with the first shot she fired. Eunae had always been fierce, relentless in an argument, but--

_Your mother's the scariest pacifist I've ever met_ , Jin told him once. Jongup had laughed a little at the time, partly to mollify the older man and partly because, fucked up or not, Jin had been the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend back then.

And now he was dead, and had apparently kept the Jackdaws off Jongup's back all this time, and Jongup's pacifist mother wasn't such a pacifist anymore. 

He needed a break. He needed sleep, but even more he needed to be somewhere things still made _sense_.

He found his way to Himchan's bunk.

The bed was still in disarry from the last time--too long ago now--they'd slept in it. Jongup dropped bonelessly onto the edge of the mattress and closed his eyes, head hanging.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed that way, too weary to even lie down. He didn't look up when the door opened. There was a pause before it shut, and with a few measured footsteps Himchan was standing in front of him. Jongup didn't look up. He held out the bottle of painkillers he'd gotten from Youngjae and Himchan took it. Jongup let his hand settle on his hip as Himchan ran a hand down his head to the nape of his neck.

"Long day."

Jongup just nodded and hooked his index finger through one of Himchan's belt loops, using it to pull himself up. He looked at him for the first time, which, nope, too intense. He went to pour a glass of water at the sink in the corner.

"Meds, now," he said sternly, handing over the glass. Himchan hesitated.

"These'll just knock me out."

"Good. If you pass out in the middle of the rescue tomorrow, Daehyun hyung'll never let you hear the end of it." Jongup tried to smile. Himchan didn't look reassured.

"Will you stay?" he asked, and for the first time since his confession in the medbay, he sounded uncertain. Jongup didn't leave him hanging, kicking off his shoes. Himchan watched him for a beat, then swallowed two pills down. He sat heavily and untied his boots.

"Yongguk told me what Woo said," he said. Jongup shook his head, tugging off his t-shirt, then his belt.

"I don't know what the hell he was thinking," he muttered, the bewilderment creeping back in.

"Jin?"

He nodded. "It doesn't make sense, him lying to Woo."

Himchan pulled him down beside him. Jongup helped him tug his shirt off, careful of his wounds. They took a beat to stretch out together, limbs tangling comfortably until they found their places, Jongup's cheek resting on Himchan's uninjured shoulder, his knees tucked beneath his bent legs, arm slung lightly across his chest above his newest scar.

"It makes sense if he really was protecting you," Himchan said. "Much as I hate to think he wasn't as completely terrible as he seemed."

Jongup smiled against his chest at his grudging tone, though the expression faded fast. He would have preferred Jin remain a flatly awful in his memory. He'd done a decent job forgetting their quasi-friendship, and now he didn't know how to mourn someone he'd spent so long hating. It felt disloyal--to himself, to his mother--to even contemplate some degree of forgiveness.

"Woo won't be satisfied getting Dae out tomorrow," he said, settling his mind to an equally complex but less fraught topic. "He's ambitious. He seems reasonable but he's a lot more dangerous than Jin was."

"Mm," Himchan said. "We'll be careful. Not much choice now." His words slurred slightly and Jongup lifted his chin to see his face. His eyes were closed, but Jongup could tell from the way he kept lifting his eyebrows that he was struggling to stay awake. Youngjae's meds worked fast.

He reached out with two fingers and pushed Himchan's eyebrows down where they belonged.

"Go to sleep, hyung."

Himchan made a disgruntled noise. " _You_ go t'sleep." He sounded vaguely pouty and young and Jongup was struck at once by the fact that no one else got to see him this way. To the others he was commander, hyung, friend. But always capable, in control. He was strangely honored to be the one Himchan let down his guard for. It made his heart feel like it was expanding in his chest, like he didn't have room to fit the warmth flooding him.

_Oh_.

Well honestly, what had he _thought_ this would feel like?

"Hyung," he whispered urgently, poking his cheek. Himchan just hummed; even his eyebrows had given up the fight. "Hyung, wait, wake up a sec." He needed to say it now, while he was sure. Himchan gave a slightly inquistive hum. Jongup supposed that would have to do. "I love you too," he told him.

Himchan didn't move. Jongup waited, then slumped in disappointment.

Himchan cracked one eye open to squint at him.

"Yeah?" he said, sounding slightly more awake.

Jongup nodded fervently. He would have liked to add something eloquent and heartfelt, but words weren't really his native language. Better to keep it short and true than babble his way into incoherency.

Himchan closed his eye and smiled and--fuck. A dimple flashed under his eye, just for a heartbeat.

"I was hoping you did," he murmured. Jongup kissed the spot where the dimple had been.

"You can go to sleep now," he said. "I just wanted to say that."

Himchan gave a jerky nod and his arm tightened around Jongup's shoulders, drawing him back to his chest.

"Wake me when it's time to rescue Daehyunnie," he said. Jongup could feel his heartbeat against his face. "Don't let me miss it."

*

Cheonsa had gone quiet. Junhong watched Youngjae from the door. The medic had finally agreed to _just rest his eyes for a minute_ , and had been snoring at his desk for an hour. Good. Junhong couldn't calulate it precisely-up-to-three-decimals anymore, but he estimated the crew as a whole was working at about twenty-fucked-percent capacity, thanks to days of worry and exhaustion and, in Himchan's case, injury. Better for everyone to sleep.

He draped a discarded lab coat over Youngjae's shoulders in lieu of a blanket and left him, somewhat reluctantly.

He wasn't tired. He began to pace the corridors thoughtlessly, his path taking him near the engine room.

Maybe it wasn't so thoughtless after all.

Junhong wasn't sure where Yongguk was, but Moon Eunae was right where he'd expected, still hunched over the chip.

_His_ chip. He wasn't sure whether what he felt was jealousy or guilt--jealousy that she had a better understanding of his tech than he did or guilt that so far he'd been totally useless.

Or hey, why pick just one?

He stopped inside the door.

"And then there were two," Eunae said.

"What?"

She peered at him over the top of a pair of glasses she hadn't had on before and smiled slightly.

"We're the only two left awake, I think. I sent your captain to bed almost an hour ago before he could nod off in the middle of my workspace."

"That's good," Junhong said. "He needs it. They all do."

"But not you," she said, studying him in the frank way that had made him squirm when they were first introduced.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I have some physical enhancements," he said. "We don't really...understand them all yet." He sensed if anyone might be able to figure it out, it was her.

She looked down, then held his chip out between a delicate set of pincers she must have brought from her own lab.

"This came out of your head," she said. Junhong shugged.

"Unless Youngjae was just messing with me, yeah."

"He doesn't seem the type."

"Wait'll you get to know him a little better."

Her smile widened--or rather grew crooked, one side of her mouth stretching while the other stayed tight, almost skeptical.

"Come help me," she said, motioning him over. Junhong didn't need a second invitation.

"I'll try."

"May I see your arm implant?" she asked. Junhong sat down so she could reach it easily. As before, she handled his arm as though it were something important, turning it this way and that for a beat before settling it on his folded knee and setting the chip onto some sort of scanner Junhong couldn't identify.

"Did you design that yourself?" he guessed.

"Mm," Eunae said. This might have been a _yeah_ "mm" or a _shush so I can work_ "mm" or a _did you say something, Robot Boy?_ "mm." He'd just have to wait.

It didn't take long. After a few seconds, his implant lit up blue all the way up his arm.

Junhong flinched. " _Um_ \--"

"I've calibrated the signal," Eunae cut in, and now there was nothing skeptical in her grin. She looked like Jongup when she smiled, complete with the slightly crooked front teeth. "That's a good thing," she added, noticing Junhong's tense posture.

"Right, just--these would hook up to my weapons system if I was still in my suit," he said stiffly. "I didn't think they'd still work without it."

"The signal's the important thing, not the hardware." Eunae tilted her head. "Is it uncomfortable?"

It _hummed_. Junhong wasn't sure how to describe it. "No," he said carefully. "Wait--does this mean I could still use the weapons even without the chip in my head? Because that could _really_ help." _He_ could really help. He'd lost any memories of firing the canons, but he'd studied the suit and knew what they were capable of. If Daehyun's rescue required any kind of direct combat--and he had to assume it would--this would come in handy in more ways than one.

"Sure," Eunae said offhandedly. "But more importantly, you wanted to use this signal to shut down the other Sentinels, right?"

Junhong nodded, his heart speeding up at the look on the engineer's face.

"That part'll be easy," she told him. 

Junhong was sensing a "but." He waited for it.

"But I might have a better idea," Eunae said.

There it was.

*

"Ummm. _No_?" Youngjae said, not containing his anger all that well. Eunae didn't flinch.

"If we can overwrite the Sentinels' programming with orders of our own--" she began.

"Then we're no better than the NRA," Youngjae snapped.

"Do you think it's better to shut them down like some ship's system?" Eunae asked.

Youngjae caught something almost like pleasure in her voice, and he realized he could see her as a teacher, debating with one of her students. It would have been a nice thought if he hadn't been the student in question, and if she hadn't just made kind of a solid point.

"I...don't know," he admitted. Faced with an ethical dilemma, of course he looked at Yongguk. The captain had slept for almost six hours--in the end they'd all rested--and aside from being badly in need of a shave, he looked more himself than he had in days.

"What do _you_ think?" Yongguk asked Junhong.

They were gathered in the engine room. There were hardly ever this many people in here. The room was very _vertical_ , and had grown crowded enough on the floor that Jongup had pulled himself aloft to inspect the engine. He seemed to be working but Youngjae had no doubt he was listening to every word.

Junhong glanced from Yongguk to Youngjae, his face troubled. "I don't think we have any good options," he said. "No matter what we'll have to do _something_ shitty before we can do anything good."

Yongguk looked sad, but also a bit relieved. "Okay, I guess. If it gets Dae back," he said. "It's only temporary, anyway."

Youngjae knew without looking at Junhong that that wasn't what he'd meant. Junhong's _anything good_ was more closely aligned with Boss Woo's _not chickenshit_. This was bigger than Daehyun now.

And it wasn't fair for Junhong to be the one to say it. He was still new.

"Are we really gonna just leave the rest of the Sentinels like that?" Youngjae said.

Everyone looked at him, Yongguk with resignation, Eunae with interest. Himchan quirked an eyebrow at him, but he didn't look displeased, which was better than he'd expected. He chanced a look at Junhong to find his face lightening hopefully.

Ugh, his _face_. It had quickly jumped the ranks to become Youngjae's favorite face. (Who had it been before? Who the hell knows, he didn't _think_ about shit like this before and hadn't in _years_ , oh god he was a teenager all over again how had this happened _\--_ )

"I mean," he said haltingly. "They could be Junhong."

Everyone turned to Junhong. He looked startled, then gave the group a delicate wave.

It broke the tension just enough. Himchan snorted.

"I get what you're saying," Yongguk began.

"And I get what _you're_ saying," Youngjae cut in. "But it kind of seems like Woo has a point--if we're going this far, are we really just gonna take Dae and walk?"

He couldn't quite believe he was saying this. The Jackdaws were gearing up to start phase one of their rescue plan  _right now_ , Cheonsa was about to leave to get Daehyun back,  _finally_ , and Youngjae was letting the  _Sentinels_ complicate things?

He glanced at Junhong again. Okay, fine. It wasn't just about the Sentinels. 

"I'm open to suggestions," Yongguk said. Youngjae knew he meant it. Now, if he only _had_ a suggestion to share.

Jongup let out a small cough, drawing everyone's attention.

"You can definitely give them commands?" he asked his mother. "Not just disrupt the signal?"

"As long as we can get close enough," she confirmed.

Jongup nodded, his eyes taking on the faraway look they got when he when he was about to solve a problem.

"Then I don't think we should bother trying to get Daehyun hyung out," he said. "I think we should get the Sentinels to do it for us."

*

Regrets: Daehyun had a few. He couldn't see much from his cell, but the ship's proximity alarm kept blaring, presumably as more NRA ships arrived.

The good news was no one seemed especially worried about him or Junseo at the moment. They'd been left alone.

"Now what?" Daehyun said. Junseo was lying on the bench in his cell, staring at the ceiling.

"Now what _what_? It's over."

Daehyun kicked at the bars between them.

"You give up that easily?" he said, ignoring the part of himself that thought Junseo had the right idea.

The other man lifted his chin to scowl at him. "You killed civilians?" he said abruptly.

Daehyun stepped back from the bars. He wasn't really in the mood to defend himself. But then, he probably shouldn't piss off his only ally in sight.

"I don't know. They told us it was a military target. That might have been a lie."

Junseo let his head drop with a thud.

"You guys destroyed a lot of civilian stations," he said. "My family evacuated. They only got out two days before our home station was hit."

Daehyun sat on the end of his bench.

"I...forget sometimes," he said haltingly. "That the Alliance isn't all just a bunch of uniforms."

Junseo sat up and crossed his long legs.

"Of course we aren't. Most of us just wanted to live our lives."

"So did we," Daehyun shot back. "On _our_ planet, the way we had for generations."

Junseo was frowning. "You know a lot of us protested the occupation," he said. "There wasn't much support for the war at all until the Matoki retaliation strikes. If you hadn't hit back so hard--"

"Our capital was _burned_ ," Daehyun burst out, Youngjae's face flashing in his mind and bringing with it a wave of longing. "My best friend was there. He saw his family die horribly right in front of him. He's lucky to be alive. What were we supposed to do, not fight back? Hope that enough Alliance civilians with a conscience might protest their way to peace?" His voice turned scornful and he broke off, breathing in hard through his nose.

Junseo shook his head.

"I don't know," he said. "No, I guess not."

They regarded each other for a beat. The proximity alarm rang out again. Daehyun stood.

"We need to do something," he said, peering out at the bustling hallway. "My friends are out there."

"How do you know?" Junseo said, a bit sullenly.

"They said they were drinking with _Himchan_ last night," Daehyun said. "That's our commander. He was here."

So fucking _close_ , dammit. He tried to imagine Himchan drinking with a bunch of NRA people. How the hell had _that_ happened? How had Himchan refrained from shooting them? 

Junseo frowned. "It could have been another Himchan..."

Daehyun waved this away. There was only one Himchan in the universe.

"It was him. They're planning something, but it's gonna be a lot harder now thanks to us. We have to help if we can."

Junseo sighed but stood up, peering around the room.

"No cameras to mess with in here," he said. The closest computer panel was out of reach.

Or was it. Daehyun snaked his arm through the bars and felt for the locking mechanism on his cell.

"Can you do anything with this?"

Junseo went to his own door and felt around, face screwed up in concentration. Daehyun frowned as familiarity washed over him again. Junseo almost looked like--

Then the other prisoner smirked and the feeling ebbed away. "They're still using these?" he said. "Fancy ship isn't so fancy after all."

Daehyun couldn't see his hand but after a long beat, there came a happy _beep_ and the other cell door swung open. Holy shit. He hadn't actually expected that to work.

Junseo grinned as he slipped out and moved to Daehyun.

"You have a plan for what to do next?" he asked as he gave his lock the same treatment. Daehyun paused. They couldn't very well just go stolling around the ship; they'd be recaptured in a heartbeat.

He tried to think what Yongguk would do. What would his plan be?

"Get back in your cell," he told Junseo. "If someone comes by they should think we're still locked up."

Junseo nodded and retreated, watching Daehyun expectantly through the bars.

"Himchan hyung was here doing recon," Daehyun muttered, beginning to pace. What had he seen? How much did he know? "He must know the station is guarded by Sentinels."

"If your friends have half a brain they'll stop there. No way they could take down so many."

"Yeah but we _have_ one," Daehyun insisted, his thoughts starting to gain traction. "We have Zelo. They must be planning to use him somehow...put him back in his armor and send him in as a decoy, maybe?"

"One Sentinel against that many--" Junseo began doubtfully. Daehyun shook his head once, a convulsive jerk. Junseo was right, it was too risky.

"What else would they do..." he muttered.

"If you have a Sentinel suit, there's a lot of hardware to work with. _If_ you have a decent engineer to figure it out." Junseo's voice indicated he didn't think this very likely.

Daehyun glared at him. "We have an _amazing_ engineer," he corrected. _Mechanic_ , Jongup's voice protested in his head. He ignored it out of habit. "He can do anything." Unfortunately, _anything_ was a broad category Daehyun wasn't sure how to narrow.

"Then let's hope they have a plan to neutralize the Sentinels somehow," Junseo said doubtfully. Daehyun stopped pacing.

"You're right, they have to." _Somehow._  "That has to be the plan. So all _we_ have to do is neutralize the strike force."

"Oh, _easy."_

Daehyun ignored him. An idea was forming at the edge of his mind.

"We need to draw the strike force onto the station," he said. If they could bottle them up in the prison and get a message to Cheonsa letting his friends know he was _here_ \--

"I can fake a distress signal," Junseo suggested. "Make it look like it's coming from the prison, get the soldiers to converge there."

Daehyun narrowed his eyes. He remembered this particular NRA tactic.

"They won't see right through that?" he asked. Junseo shrugged.

"War's over. People are complacent."

It wasn't like Daehyun had a better idea.

"Can you do it from here?" he asked, nodding to the console beside the door.

"I'll see."

Junseo slipped out of his cell again and Daehyun followed suit, coming to stand opposite him just inside the door. There were no weapons in the room. If someone came in, he was going to have to tackle them. That would definitely work.

Junseo worked with a speed and grace that would have reminded Daehyun of Jongup if he wasn't trying to figure out who he _actually_ looked like. It was right there on the tip of his tongue.

"I haven't done this in years," Junseo muttered. "Ah, there--" He smiled slightly as he worked and Daehyun almost dropped his--well, he wasn't holding anything. But he would have dropped it if he was, because he _knew_ that smile. He'd seen it in Cheonsa's mess hall a week ago as Zelo helped him make breakfast.

No _fucking way_.

"Junseo?" he said, a bit shakily. The other man looked up, wide-eyed and alarmed at his tone. _No fucking wayyyy,_ except definitely. Daehyun didn't know how he hadn't seen it immediately. Junseo and Zelo _had_ to be related. Closely.

He held himself back from saying so; if he was wrong (no fucking _way_ ) it would be unthinkably cruel to get Junseo's hopes up. Plus he didn't need him distracted right now.

"Nothing, sorry."

Junseo rolled his eyes and returned to work. Daehyun peeked out into the corridor: empty for the moment.

"Got it," Junseo said. "Bouncing the distress signal back from the prison station now--c'mon--"

He and Daehyun returned to their cells and assumed postures of practiced innocence. Daehyun wasn't sure he was imagining the sound of increased activity outside the room.

"We still need to get a signal to Cheonsa," he reminded Junseo. "We don't want them going for the prison while it's stuffed with extra soldiers."

"I can do that. But not til we're sure they're close; there's a good chance our jailors will catch the signal and know it's coming from their own ship."

"Really makes you wish we had a window in here." Daehyun imagined looking out and seeing his ship in the distance. He missed Cheonsa so much it hurt.

But there wasn't much to do but wait and hope the strike force took the bait.

They hadn't been still for long when the proximity alert blared out again--this time accompanied by a second shrill alarm. Daehyun stood up as an officer's voice filled the ship:

_"We have two Jackdaw freighters uncloaking, everyone to action stations--"_

" _Jack_ daws?" Junseo repeated blankly. Certainty lit up Daehyun's chest. He thought of Jongup conjuring the image of a Jackdaw ship to draw the NRA security vessel away from Cheonsa. No way this was a coincidence. He looked at Junseo, grinning.

"They're here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't wait for reunions xx


	23. Chapter 23

"Well, this is a problem," Youngjae said.

Cheonsa was cloaked, in visual range of the prison station and sat ship--as well as the three NRA freighters now surrounding the area.

As one, the crew turned to glare at Himchan.

"Those weren't there before!" he protested, hands up.

"They're here now," Yongguk said grimly.

One of the freighters was docked at the prison station while the other two had begun to engage Woo's ships. The small satellite ship stayed out of range, continually moving.

"God, Dae would kill to fly that thing," Youngjae muttered, his eyes straining to track the ship.

"We need to get closer." Eunae barely spared the viewscreen a glance, leaning over the workstation she'd set up near the window.

"Close--That's an NRA strike force out there," Himchan told her, then glanced at Yongguk. "Bbang?"

Yongguk was glaring out the window. Youngjae had a feeling they were both thinking the same thing: they were _here_. Daehyun was here. No way they were turning back. Youngjae's stomach churned at the thought of the pilot, surrounded by Sentinels _and_ NRA officers. Dammit, why the strike force all of a sudden?

Yongguk was rolling his jaw, working up to something.

"There are enough Sentinels on that station to overpower that freighter," he decided. "Stick to the plan. Himchan, take us in closer; keep us out of range of Woo's ships."

It was impossible to tell who would win the fight between the Jackdaws and the strike force. The NRA had better maneuverability than the lumbering Jackdaw vessels, but the pirates had an impressive weapons arsenal.

They all winced as a targeted NRA attack sheared a hunk the size of the Albatross off the corner of Woo's ship. The Jackdaws continued their barrage, undaunted.

"I can amend the Sentinels' new orders to contain the officers before finding your pilot," Eunae spoke up. "Unless you'd rather they just shoot them?"

Jongup flinched. " _No_."

"Just--have the Sentinels lock them up," Yongguk agreed hastily. "We won't make them kill for us."

Himchan brought Cheonsa in closer to the station, dodging the fight.

"I don't even know who to root for," Youngjae said, unable to take his eyes off the battling ships. "I mean, obviously I _do,_ but it's--confusing."

"Go go fightin' Jackfucks," Himchan muttered.

"What d'you think that ship's doing there?" Jongup said, nodding to the vessel docked with the prison.

"I would've thought they'd team up with the others against the Jackdaws," Yongguk agreed. Youngjae had been thinking the same thing.

Junhong slipped past him to peer at the scanner beside the helm.

"Can I--?" 

Yongguk nodded and he began to type in commands, brow furrowed.

"There's a distress signal coming from the prison ship," he said. "I can't tell what the problem is--"

Youngjae pressed in behind him, trying to see anyway.

" _Guys_ \--" Himchan barked as they crowded against his seat.

"Give him some room, we're almost there," Yongguk said.

Youngjae let Junhong push him back gently, taking his hand and squeezing hard.

Almost there.

*

Daehyun didn't jump up and down in his cell because it would have been a little suspicious, but that was the only reason.

_They're here, they're here, Cheonsa's here_.

"They said _Jackdaws_ , what makes you think this has anything to do with your friends?" Junseo asked, apparently determined to be a killjoy. Daehyun had no time for his skepticism.

"Those ships aren't real, there's this projection trick our engineer can do--he used to live with the Jackdaws--"

Junseo's eyebrows lifted. "What kind of company are you _keeping_?"

Daehyun pictured Zelo and thought, _Just you wait._

He almost said it, almost asked something like,  _Hey, whoever you lost wouldn't happen to be a giant dimpled doe-eyed guy, would it_? Anything to get Junseo as excited as he was. Because damn it, even if he didn't _exactly_ know how Cheonsa had conjured some Jackdaw freighters as a distraction, he knew it was them. It _had_ to be. He was going home.

"We should try to contact them n--" he began, cutting himself off at the sound of a hatch clanging outside the brig. He and Junseo turned away from each other just as two guards carried in a third figure.

It was a girl, unconscious and dressed in an oversized Alliance uniform. Daehyun forgot to pretend at disinterest, staring as they carried her into the third cell and lay her out on the cot.

"Fresh blood?" Junseo said, his tone bored as he twistedto see the new inmate. The guards ignored him.

"I _told_ the Commander it was a mistake--" the round-faced one grumbled to the other man, who gave him a sharp look that shut him up. They sealed the girl in and headed for the door, thankfully not pausing to check the locks on the other two cells.

Maybe Daehyun should have let them go, but something in his heart went tight at the sight of the small figure in the third cell, who still hadn't moved.

"Yah, hang on, is she sick or something?" he demanded loudly. One of the guards was already out the door but the round-faced man sighed and turned back.

"You won't catch anything from her."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

"Believe me, you don't have to worry about _her_ ," the guard said, then added for good measure, "So shut up."

Daehyun glared after him for a beat before turning away. Junseo had the middle unit and was standing next to the bars, peering in at their new neighbor.

"Hey," he said, the insolent note gone from his voice. "You okay in there?" The girl didn't stir. Junseo glanced at Daehyun. "Now what?"

Good question. She was dressed as an officer, but the ill fit of her uniform told Daehyun it wasn't hers. He couldn't imagine who she could be.

"Open her cell," he said. "Be ready to take her with us." They could work out her identity on Cheonsa. He wouldn't leave a potential ally in the NRA's hands.

Junseo shrugged and ducked out of his cell.

"And you're _sure_ your people are out there now?" he pressed, unlocking the third cell.

"Positive. We should send them a message now while this crew's distracted."

They moved back to the panel and now Daehyun couldn't stop himself bouncing on the balls of his feet.

_Almost home, almost home, almost home._

"I don't see anyone out there but Jackdaws and NRA," Junseo said, scanning the viewscreen. Daehyun shouldered him aside.

"They'll be cloaked," he muttered, taking a beat to orient himself with the unfamiliar system.

"Cloaked? You get _that_ tech from the Jackdaws, too?"

"Comes in handy--yesss, see?" Daehyun said as his tapping revealed the gorgeous sight of his ship only fifteen thousand clicks away. "That's them, that's _them_ \--"

"Send your message, then," Junseo said impatiently, peeking out into the corridor. Whatever. He'd _get_ excited when he saw Zelo, if Daehyun's hunch was right.

Daehyun's hands were shaking as he sent his message. He would have liked to open a channel so they could talk, but there was no way their captors would miss that.

"Come on, come on," he muttered, typing fast, then frowned.

"Are you sure those Jackdaw ships are projections?" Junseo asked. Daehyun no longer was, because according to the panel in front of him, they were firing on two of the NRA freighters.

"Maybe Jonguppie's even better than I thought," he said.

*

"Doc, how close do we need to get?"

"Another thousand clicks and I can overwrite the Sentinels' orders," Eunae said. She was frowning. Jongup crouched beside her.

"Umma?"

"Look at this."

Jongup leaned in to see."You're not doing that?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"Doing what?" Yongguk spoke up.

"The chip is emitting some kind of signal, separate from ours. It started a few minutes ago."

"Did we trigger some kind of failsafe?" Jongup said. His mother just shook her head again, bewildered.

"Two minutes," Himchan said.

"How long will we need to stay that close to the prison?" Yongguk asked tersely.

"However long you want the Sentinels to do what we say."

"We can cut off their signal permanently when we're ready to get out of here," Jongup said. He glanced at Junhong. "If you think that's a good idea."

They'd all begun to defer to him on the question of how to handle the Sentinels once they had Daehyun. Junhong couldn't help feeling this was rather a lot of pressure, though he understood it. If not him, who else?

He nodded at Jongup. "Let's see how this--"

"We're getting a communication," Himchan interrupted.

"Woo?" Yongguk guessed.

Himchan's brow was furrowed as he looked at the panel.

"No," he said disbelievingly. "It's from the sat ship. It's _Daehyun_."

There was a general confused outcry.

"What's he saying?" Yongguk demanded. Himchan let out an impatient huff.

"He's saying he's on the sat ship."

Youngjae was standing in front of Junhong, practically _vibrating_ with tension. Junhong let his hand rest between his shoulder blades, wanting to soothe. He was a little worried the medic might snap at him for it, but instead Youngjae took a step back so he was pressed against Junhong's chest. Now Junhong was vibrating with tension, too.

"What are _you_ saying?" Youngjae asked.

"I'm being very reassuring."

"Send a message to Woo next," Yongguk said. "If that sat ship takes off while Dae's there, we won't be able to catch them."

"On it," Himchan said, fingers flying. "Are we sure we don't want to just forget the prison station altogether now?"

"If that other freighter joins the fight, we're done," Yongguk said grimly. "We still need the Sentinels to restrain them."

"We're in range," Eunae said.

Yongguk nodded. "Do it."

*

"We're getting a message back on the same channel," Junseo said. "' _Sit tight, dummy.'_ That's...nice?"

Daehyun was smiling so hard it hurt. "That's Himchan," he corrected. "That's _Himchan,_ I _told_ you--"

"Should we be worried about _that_ , then?" Junseo pointed to the Jackdaw ship which was breaking away from the main battle and moving decisively in their direction.

"I...do not know." Daehyun wanted to say no--the Jackdaws' presence had to be connected to Cheonsa's. But he couldn't help his dread at the sight of the approaching ship.

Junseo swore as the Jackdaws opened fire. Daehyun almost lost his footing as the ship dodged, the evasive maneuvers faster than the inertial dampeners could compensate for, throwing him against the bulkhead. Shouts sounded down the hall as the crew responded to the attack. A beat later, a crash resounded through the ship. Daehyun saw stars as his head cracked against the wall.

"Fuck--" he gasped as he went down. Okay, he decided. This was _not_ a good sign. Something was wrong.

*

"The fuck is Woo _doing?"_ Himchan demanded. "He's _firing on--_ "

"Just trying to disable them so they can't get away?" Youngjae said hopefully.

Yongguk was glaring holes in the viewscreen as the largest Jackdaw freighter closed in on the sat ship.

"Not _just_ ," he said.

*

Daehyun wasn't sure how long the bombardment lasted. At some point he gave up trying to stand, pressed his back to the wall and just waited.

Then it stopped.

He and Junseo stared at each other from matching positions on the floor.

"Think we won?" Junseo asked, just before a prolonged metallic grinding filled the ship and made them both wince.

"I think we're being boarded," Daehyun said. He wished it was Cheonsa, but the viewscreen regretfully informed him otherwise.

His attention was drawn to the third cell. The girl had been tossed from her bunk in the turbulence. She was just starting to move.

"Hey--" Daehyun began, but that was when the Jackdaws walked in.

He knew what they were at a glance; the pirates didn't contain their flair for drama to the stripes on their ships. They had a propensity for excessive tattoos and stupid sharp _stuff_ all over their clothes, as well as the projectile weapons they carried alongside their blasters.

There were three of them, the man in the middle somewhat subdued in his styling, and clearly the leader. He didn't so much as bat an eye to see the two prisoners out of their cells.

"Which one of you's Jung Daehyun?" he asked without preamble.

Daehyun pushed himself to his feet, fists and other parts clenching in anticipation of whatever was about to happen.

"Who are you?"

The Jackdaw ignored him, reaching out to grip his shoulder tightly and drag him back to the computer panel, where he tapped a few commands, opening a channel.

"Cheonsa," he said, and the pain in Daehyun's shoulder was forgotten. Then the rest of his _body_ was forgotten as his mind basically splattered against the wall at the sound of Yongguk's voice responding.

_"Woo."_

One tiny syllable and actual tears were springing into Daehyun's eyes. Yongguk. Cheonsa _, Youngjae--_

"Your pilot is secure." Woo's hand tightened on Daehyun's shoulder. "Say hello, Pilot."

Daehyun didn't even care about his mocking tone.

"Hyung?" he burst out, stepping toward the panel as though it were a portal that could transport him home.

_"Daehyun-ah. Are you okay?"_ Yongguk sounded, warm, relieved but somehow still worried. Daehyun could relate.

"I'm--glad to hear your voice," he said, adding a belated "Captain" when he remembered the Jackdaws listening.

Speaking of whom--"It seems your plan is working," Woo told Yongguk. "The Sentinels are subduing the strike force on the prison."

_"Seems that way_ ," Yongguk said evenly while Daehyun tried to figure out just how his friends had accomplished _that_.

"So I'll make a deal with you," Woo said.

_"We already_ had _a deal."_

"You had a deal with Jin. He had his talents, but negotiating didn't top the list."

Daehyun could practically hear Yongguk grinding his teeth. He glanced back at Junseo, who the other two Jackdaws had backed up towards his cell. Past him, the girl was sitting up in hers. Her face was hidden behind her hair, but the tilt of her head told Daehyun she was listening.

Yongguk's voice pulled his attention back. _"What do you want."_

"I have your precious pilot." Woo gave Daehyun a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "He's safe and sound and I'll be happy to return him to your ship. I'll take my engineer back when I do."

There was some muffled sound from Cheonsa, a scuffle or curse, Daehyun couldn't tell. Nor could he guess why the answer wasn't an immediate _sure, take him!_ If Cheonsa had a Jackdaw on board, surely Yongguk would be eager to get rid of them, right?

_"You mean your captive,"_ Yongguk said flatly, and dread flooded Daehyun. If Woo was talking about _Jongup_ \--

"I've given her the freedom to do her own work for years," Woo said, nipping that theory right in the bud. Daehyun was right back to cluelessness. "She's one of us, whether she admits it or not."

There was a long pause wherein Daehyun died six or eight times, no big deal.

" _We need to hold our position here until the Sentinels can finish the job,"_ Yongguk said finally. _"Bring Dae to us, now."_

"You see, Captain, I knew you could be reasonable," Woo said. "We'll join you presently." He nodded to the woman he'd come in with and she strode past him, presumably heading for the cockpit.

Woo cut the transmission and turned back to Daehyun.

"We'll have you home soon," he said, which was when the girl in the last cell burst out of it and tackled the nearest Jackdaw, hands closing around his throat.

*

Yongguk should have seen this coming. Of course Woo wouldn't be content with his new knowledge about the Sentinels--not now that he'd seen it was possible to control them. Yongguk understood now what Himchan had meant when he said _this is bigger than Daehyun_. If the Jackdaws took Eunae back, the damage to the system would be catastrophic.

He knew the others were probably staring at him. He didn't want to see Jongup's expression.

"I guess we've got about five minutes to come up with a plan." Yongguk made himself turn, take in the mechanic's face, which had gone horribly blank. Only his eyes were alive, and furious.

"A plan," Himchan repeated. Yongguk could hear his relief. "We won't give Woo what he wants."

Jongup's eyes flickered to him, then back to Yongguk, uncertainty crowding out his anger. Behind him, Youngjae and Junhong blocked the door.

"We _can't_ ," Youngjae said, clearly reaching the same conclusion Yongguk had.

He nodded and looked at Eunae, who had gone as still as her son, though her eyes remained trained on her workstation.

"You're probably the most powerful person in the galaxy right now," Yongguk told her. She looked up at last, but at Jongup instead of him.

"What do we do?" Jongup asked her, or maybe the room at large.

Junhong stepped forward. "Put me back in the suit," he said.

*

Daehyun didn't understand the physics of it. The girl dispatched the Jackdaw so quickly he almost missed the grotesque twist her hands made around his neck. He went down with a choked gurgle.

Then she turned to Woo.

It was the first time Daehyun saw her face. She was young, and pretty in a terrifying kind of way, her eyes darkly focused. Woo had a blaster out and was watching her warily. He shoved Daehyun away and Daehyun went gladly, though there was nowhere to go but back to Junseo and the cells. On the floor beside them, the Jackdaw twitched a few times, then was still.

"What are you supposed to be?" Woo asked, and the girl struck.

She moved faster than should have been possible, dodging Woo's blaster as easily as if he'd lifted it in slow motion. She used her momentum to kick off from the wall and circle behind him and then her arms were around his neck, squeezing. He clawed at her, rucking up her sleeve in the struggle. Daehyun caught a glimpse of a familiar set of implants running up her arm.

"Holy shit," he muttered.

Woo was going purple. It was impressive he was still standing. The girl's face was perfectly composed as she choked the life from him. Finally he went down on one knee, then the other. The blaster dropped from his hand. Daehyun debated going for it, but he didn't particularly want the girl to see him as a potential threat.

"She's a Sentinel," he told Junseo, whose eyes, already wide, widened further.

Woo was down. The girl unhooked her arms and stood up, turning to Daehyun and Junseo.

"Hey--hey--um--" Daehyun said, lifting both hands placatingly. "We don't want to hurt you." He immediately felt stupid. _She_ wasn't the one who should be worried here. "You're a Sentinel, right? That's cool, one of my best friends is a Sentinel."

The girl did not look impressed, but she hadn't attacked him yet, either. Daehyun kept babbling.

"I'm serious, we found him in a warehouse on the edge of the sector. Second Zelo Unit. His inhibitor was all fucked up and he was self-aware for the first time. Is that--what happened to you?"

Her face wasn't encouraging: she was staring at him through narrowed eyes--the expression of someone watching an insect's progress as they determined when to squash it.

The ship began to move. Oh, right. Woo's people didn't know he was--dead? He couldn't tell from here. The Jackdaw looked very _crumpled_ , at any rate.

"Do you have a name?" Daehyun tried. It had worked with Zelo, kind of. "I'm Daehyun, and this is Junseo."

Junseo waved. The girl's eyes flickered between them.

"The Jackdaws called me Murderbot." Her voice was raspy from disuse.

Daehyun frowned. "The Jackdaws?"

She mirrored his frown back at him. "They thought they could control me," she said, scorn seeping into her words. Daehyun's eyes widened as he made an alarming connection.

"You killed that shipful of Jackdaws a few weeks ago."

"They thought they could control me," she repeated. "They were wrong."

"We don't want to control you," Daehyun assured her, raising his hands higher. "I promise. We just want to get off this ship."

"What do _you_ want?" Junseo asked her, plainly fascinated. All his years on the prison station trying to get the Sentinels' attention and now he was finally talking to one. Daehyun was happy for him.

"My partner is close," the Sentinel said. "We were separated." She looked at Daehyun. "Second Zelo Unit belongs with me. Take me to him."

*

Youngjae's hands were shaking as he helped Junhong into the suit. They didn't speak, listening to the ongoing argument across the medbay.

"I wouldn't help them," Eunae said. "You think I want the fate of this entire system on my conscience?"

"I understand Jackdaws can be persuasive," Yongguk said.

"As long as Jongup's safe, that's all that matters. You think I've never been tortured before?"

Jongup looked like _he_ was the one being tortured. The stricken look on his face distracted Junhong--mostly--from the way his armor was swallowing him whole.

"There's no need to risk your ship," Eunae continued, oblivious--probably intentionally--to her son's distress. "If I'm going to die either way--"

"We're not handing you over to the Jackdaws, even as a last resort," Himchan spoke up. "So forget it."

Eunae threw up her hands. "You'd be protecting your own, it's only natural--"

"You're a Moon," Yongguk snapped. "You _are_ one of our own."

The room went quiet for a beat. Himchan looked pleased, pulling Jongup to his side and kissing his temple lightly. Eunae looked around at the crew, nonplussed, as though waiting for someone to disagree. No one did, and Junhong felt a surge of affection for these-- _humans_. Honestly, these people. With the affection came new resolve.

"It won't come to that, anyway," he said. "You guys grab Daehyun and I'll be your cover until you're _all_ back on Cheonsa." He looked at Eunae pointedly.

"It's still risky," Youngjae said, frowning at his armor.

"He'll be safe enough in the suit," Jongup said, finally tearing his eyes from Yongguk, who he'd been staring at with something like wonder. "He could take a dozen blaster hits before he felt so much as a tingle."

Junhong nodded, giving the medic the most confident smile he could muster. "Where's my helmet?"

The proximity alarm blared before Youngjae could answer. The sat ship was here.

*

They only had to take down three Jackdaws on their way to the hangar bay where the sat ship had docked with Cheonsa. Woo's ship had backed off slightly, on orders forged by Junseo. Daehyun didn't know how long they could keep the Jackdaws in the dark about this latest power-shift, but one problem at a time.

He glanced at the Sentinel--First Bia Unit, as she'd grudgingly introduced herself. Daehyun had no idea if she was right about Zelo being her counterpart, nor what it meant if she was. He had a feeling she and Junseo would need to fight it out for future custody of the other Sentinel. He hoped at least they would both be pleased to see him.

_Daehyun_ would be pleased to see him, although admittedly Zelo wasn't at the very top of his list.

They reached the hangar bay. The light was already green. All Daehyun had to do was open the door.

"Let me do the talking," he said, mostly to Bia. "Remember, they're expecting the Jackdaws to be making a trade, _do not shoot_ if they come out armed. Okay? Please?"

She gave him a long stare and at last a small nod. That would have to do.

He hit the release and the door began to rise.

He saw legs first, three pairs, two human and one Sentinel. That was smart, putting Zelo in his suit. Daehyun watched hungrily as the door revealed--a woman he'd never seen before. He barely had time to frown before his gaze landed on his captain.

Zelo stopped walking first, then the woman and finally Yongguk, just a few steps away. His brow creased slightly as his eyes flickered over Junseo and Bia--not the welcoming party he'd been expecting. But then he was looking at Daehyun and he was _here_ and everything was gonna be all right.

Daehyun realized he was beaming.

"Welcome aboard, Cap," he said. "Sorry Woo couldn't be here to greet you; he, uh, needed a little nap."

Yongguk shook his head very slowly, his smile finally bursting through, warming Daehyun straight to his toes.

"Dae," he said. "You really--"

But Bia burst in before he could finish. Daehyun jumped at her voice, so close behind him. He'd forgotten her and Junseo completely.

"That's not him."

Daehyun found her glaring at Zelo, who still hadn't moved.

"What?"

"You said _Second Zelo Unit_ , you _told_ me--"

She was getting angry. Daehyun didn't have to be reminded that they wouldn't like her when she was angry.

"No, I--it _is_ , _he_ is, Zelo, tell her--" He turned back to the boy, wishing hishelmet was off. If he seriously knew Bia, they'd need his help talking her down before she mowed through them like she had the Jackdaws.

But Zelo wasn't moving. The unfamiliar woman was looking at him with concern and then Yongguk was turning back to him, and that was when Bia raised Woo's blaster and aimed it at Daehyun's head.

"Liar," she said.

*

There was a ghost standing next to Daehyun.

The helmet was busy giving Junhong the pilot's vitals but his eyes had skipped ahead to rest on the man beside him, at which point his own legs stopped working, along with his lungs and brain.

His brother could not _possibly_ be standing a few meters away right now, could he?

Junseo's hair was longer and messier than Junhong had ever seen it. He had lines on his face that made him look older than he was. What was he _doing_ here? In--a prisoner's uniform matching Daehyun's--

Very slowly the rest of the world began to filter back in. Daehyun and Yongguk were grinning at each other like they might burst--Junhong had just enough presence of mind to imagine how Youngjae's smile would put these to shame when he finally saw Daehyun in person--

And then the third figure, the one he'd barely noticed, was stepping forward, and she was looking at _him_.

"You said _Second Zelo Unit_ , you _told_ me--"

Daehyun was sputtering something, both hands rising defensively, but Junhong barely noticed because the sensor readout in his helmet had just gone bright blue, a message blinking: **_Sentinel hardware detected. First Bia Unit. Match. Match. Match._**

It had been a lifetime since Junhong had one of those dreams about showing up to school only to realize it was finals week and he hadn't studied, but he suddenly had that feeling again now--that he _should_ know what was happening, but didn't.

He recognized the weapon in the Sentinel girl's hand as she aimed it at Daehyun, however.

Instinct kicked in. Without his chip he had to manually access his weapons systems--a shameful additional 3.1 seconds he compensated for by sweeping Yongguk out of the way at the same time and stepping neatly around the pilot.

The girl changed her aim from Daehyun to Junhong halfway through, a decision that cost her. Junhong's shot caught her in the shoulder, sending her spinning to the ground with a groan. Junhong almost fired again before he caught himself, horrified. She'd dropped her gun; Sentinel hardware or not, she was just an injured girl.

Yongguk hurried to retrieve her weapon and Daehyun turned wide eyes on him.

"Whoa. Thanks, Z," he said. Junhong went to reply but instead looked at--his brother. Who did not seem to be a mirage, and was turning his stunned face from the other Sentinel back to him.

Junhong caught his own mouth hanging open and snapped it shut, glad for the privacy of the helmet--for all of .02 seconds before he brought his hands up to try to rip the thing off his head. He needed to see with his own eyes--

There was resistance and then his pinkie caught the release and the helmet lifted with a metallic _thunk_ of releasing suction. Then Junhong was dropping it to his side and staring at his brother with no computerized barrier between them.

Junseo went still. Daehyun was looking between them with interest.

"Zelo," he said. "This is--"

" _Don't_ ," Junseo said urgently, taking a few jerky steps closer, eyes hungry on Junhong's face. "Do you know who I am?"

Junhong could sense Daehyun's sympathetic grimace--of course, he didn't know, he still knew Junhong as _Z_ \--

He tried nodding but none of his mental commands seemed to be reaching their destination. He let out a whoosh of breath that sounded like oxygen escaping an airlock.

"Hyung," he said. Junseo's eyes widened. Junhong was dimly aware of Yongguk and Eunae turning to them, but he didn't look away from his brother.

"Wait, he knows you!" Daehyun told Junseo delightedly. "Wait--you know him? Zelo?"

Junhong kept his eyes glued to Junseo's face as he introduced himself to the pilot. "I'm Choi Junhong, actually."

"When did  _that_ hap--"

Yongguk's radio sounded and Himchan's voice filled the deck.

_"Status, Bbang?"_

Junhong couldn't pay attention to Daehyun's sudden questions or Yongguk's explanations. He couldn't pay attention to anything but Junseo, who closed the distance between them and took Junhong's face between his hands.

"You're not just messing with me?" he said, eyes searching.

"...'Cause Sentinels are so widely regarded for their sense of humor?" Junhong ventured. His brother let out a laugh that was half a sob. Junhong would tease him for it if his own throat weren't so tight. "You're squishing my face," he said instead.

"You're a _live_ you stupid--idiot--" Junseo hugged him.

Junhong couldn't feel a thing through the suit and unreality washed over him again, sharp, almost nauseating.

He pushed him away. "Get it off me--"

Junseo looked hurt. Junhong wanted to explain he didn't mean _him_ , but he was too busy frantically tearing at the metal covering his hands. Why wouldn't they come _off--_

"Easy, now." Eunae was there suddenly, small hands moving swiftly to tug off the gloves, then the arm pieces. Junhong's fingers scrabbled at the metal chestplate.

"Junnie," Junseo said gently. "It's okay, just--"

It wasn't okay. The metal was suffocating him, the suit was still fucking with his _mind_ probably--

Eunae got the chest off and he stumbled toward his brother again. Junseo caught him and held him tightly.

They hadn't been big huggers growing up--sucker-punches were more their style--but his brother felt unmistakably like _home_. The embrace felt like the way Cheonsa's crew looked at each other. Junhong belonged here, _right_ _here_ , like he hadn't belonged anywhere since before the war.

He wasn't in a hurry to let go, but at some point he felt Junseo shaking and he heard him laugh and mutter a curse under his breath.

"What?" Junhong said, pulling back finally. He was probably flushed and watery-eyed like a kid, but he didn't care (although some distant part of him was glad Youngjae wasn't watching). Tears streamed down his brother's cheeks, but he was grinning, too.

"I owe you fifty credits," he said. "You always said you'd be the tall one."


	24. Chapter 24

Daehyun was starting to get the feeling he'd missed some stuff.

Zelo had a name and his memories. The engineer Woo had been talking about was Jongup's _mother_ and was apparently helping Daehyun's friends control the Sentinels. Whaaaaat.

"I leave you guys alone for ten minutes," he chided, elbowing Yongguk. The captain gave him a half-smile.

"It felt longer."

Daehyun didn't disagree. He wished they could all stop for a minute (an hour, a _month_ ) and talk about everything that had happened in the past week--and, just maybe, everything they'd left unspoken the past two years.

"Grab Youngjae, will you?" Yongguk went on. "Have him bring his med kit. I'm not so sure I want her on Cheonsa." He nodded to the Sentinel girl Zelo had shot. Zelo--no, _Junhong_ \--was crouched over her, Junseo at his side. He looked up at Daehyun, face troubled.

"Tell him to hurry."

Daehyun was happy to go, his heart skipping ahead at the thought of his best friend.

He jogged up the ramp to Cheonsa, then stopped just short of slamming headlong into Youngjae as soon as he got inside.

"Ow," he said reflexively.

"I didn't even touch you, you big baby."

Youngjae looked awful, the skin under his eyes puffy and dark, stubble shadowing his cheeks. Daehyun didn't imagine he looked much better.

"This is how you say hello?" he said. "Didn't you miss me at all?"

Youngjae rolled his eyes and scoffed and made as if to punch his shoulder but somehow wound up pulling him into a hug instead, holding him so tightly it almost hurt. Daehyun let his face drop briefly onto his shoulder as the tension left his body for the first time in a week.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, once the lump in his throat had gone down a bit.

"Oh, don't ruin the moment by _speaking_."

They parted, though Youngjae kept a hold on the end of Daehyun's sleeve as though he expected him to make a run for it. The medic's eyes were very bright and his face was trying not to look too fond, and failing.

"You look horrible, Dae." He was also trying to sound grumpy, the classic Yoo Youngjae approach to pretending his heart wasn't actually as soft as a marshmallow. Daehyun knew better, of course, but let it go this time.

"You look great," he said sincerely. Eye bags, scruff and all, Youngjae was the best thing he'd seen since--well, Yongguk.

Which reminded him--

"Oh shit, right, you've got a patient," he said, motioning behind him. Youngjae stiffened.

"Is Junhong okay?"

Daehyun blinked at his tone. "Um--he's kind of busy being reunited with his brother, but he's fi--"

"Being reu-what-ed with his _who_?"

Daehyun sighed and retrieved the wall-mounted med kit from a short ways down the corridor.

"He shot this other Sentinel girl, you need to see if she's okay--"

"He _what_ this other what _what?"_

"Did you break Youngjae already?"

Daehyun turned to find Himchan approaching and let out a joyful bellow. He dodged the still-sputtering medic on his way to hug the commander.

"Hey--" Himchan's greeting was more of a gasp and Daehyun noted the way he only returned the embrace with one arm, holding the the other protectively in front of his torso. Daehyun frowned, drawing back.

"What happened to you?" He lifted Himchan's shirt and gaped as a pink expanse of fresh scar tissue was revealed. "What the _shit_ , hyung?"

"It's nothing to worry about. Are _you_ okay? What happened out there?" Himchan's hand moved from Daehyun's cheek to his shoulder as though testing his solidity as he looked him over worriedly before peering behind him to where Youngjae had disappeared down the ramp.

"You're lying, I'm fine, and where do I even _start_ ," Daehyun said.

*

Junhong was halfway out of the suit for some reason but Youngjae couldn't even scold him for it because there were _new people_ around and also he had no idea what was happening.

Yongguk, Eunae and a man Youngjae didn't recognize (had Dae actually said _brother?_ ) were crowded over Junhong, who was kneeling over an unconscious girl. Her shoulder had a nasty burn Youngjae recognized as having come from a Sentinel blaster. That explained why Junhong looked so guilty.

He looked up as Youngjae joined them and brightened, while Eunae and Yongguk made room for him to kneel at the girl's injured shoulder. He took in the wound at a glance, as well as the implants on her arm. So he'd heard that part right, too: another Sentinel. Okay, no problem. Stop trying to surprise him, Universe, you're just embarrassing yourself.

"This looks pretty superficial, she should be fine." He lifted her head gently to probe down the back of her head, wincing as he found a lump--not bleeding, thankfully. "Must've gone down pretty hard. If she doesn't wake up in a few minutes we can start to worry." He scanned her again and now he noticed the handcuffs. "Or not--what's with the restraints?"

"Just a precaution. She doesn't like us very much," Yongguk said.

"Well, she just hasn't gotten to know us yet," Youngjae assured him absently, pulling antibiotic ointment and bandages from his kit. "Which reminds me--" He glanced up at the third man. Junhong straightened up.

"This is my brother, Junseo. Hyung, this is Youngjae. He's m--our medic."

He stumbled a little over his words, flushing. Yongguk spoke up before Youngjae could get through his hello.

"We need to secure this ship--Jae, are you good here?"

"Yeah, I've got this."

"Junhong, stay with him in case she wakes up."

Junhong nodded, his hands settling on the girl's uninjured shoulder. Youngjae wondered if Yongguk had meant to give him an order--he was usually so careful not to, so adamant that Junhong hadn't officially chosen him as his leader. He saw Junseo narrow his eyes at him and remembered, _NRA_.

Yongguk passed him a blaster.

"You're with me."

If he had a problem taking orders from a Matoki, Junseo hid it for now. He ruffled Junhong's hair and followed Yongguk out while Eunae returned to Cheonsa to help Jongup. Youngjae began bandaging the girl's shoulder.

"You all right?" he asked Junhong without looking up.

"Yeah, I'm--did you see Daehyun?"

He had to smile at that, and could only nod, the tears he'd just held at bay for their reunion threatening again. Daehyun had looked like a wreck, greasy-haired and badly in need of a shave. But there had been none of the blankness in his eyes Youngjae had feared. Whatever he'd been through this past week, it hadn't been enough to make him lose himself. They'd gotten to him in time.

He blinked a few times fast and spared Junhong a glance. "So, your brother?"

Junhong beamed and Youngjae promptly forgot what he was supposed to be doing. You had to _warn_ a guy before smiling like that.

"I thought my suit was malfunctioning when I saw him. I guess he was in the prison with Daehyun."

"As a guard?"

"As a _prisoner_." Junhong shook his head in response to Youngjae's questioning look. "We haven't really gotten to talk yet; I don't really know..."

"But he's here." Youngjae pushed away his instinctive mistrust--Junseo hadn't been some brainwashed kid, after all, he'd been a full NRA officer in the war--and made room to just be happy for Junhong. If his brother could make him smile like that he couldn't be bad.

"He's _here_ ," Junhong agreed.

"You look like him, you know."

Junhong pulled a face and Youngjae laughed. "I think you're better-looking, if that helps."

He was rewarded with a deep dimple and had to look away quickly before he fell in.

"What's the story with her?" he asked, dosing the girl with a shot of antibiotics. She was just starting to stir, which was either good or terrifying.

"No idea."

Youngjae stopped and frowned. He hadn't heard Junhong sound that way since before he was Junhong.

"You just slipped into your not-entirely-truthful voice," he accused. "What gives?"

Junhong winced but didn't deny it. "My helmet got a weird reading from her. It kept saying _match_ when it detected her hardware. That didn't happen with any of the other Sentinels on the station, Himchan hyung would have said."

Youngjae's stomach dipped but he kept working smoothly. "What else?"

"She's almost...familiar."

His stomach dipped again and then decided oh, what the hell, and dropped straight to the floor when the girl's eyes suddenly opened. She surged up, alarmingly quick, but Junhong pushed her back down again just as fast.

Her lips curled back in a snarl and Youngjae just dodged a blow from her cuffed hands. He lunged for the med kit as Junhong struggled with her.

"We aren't gonna hurt you--" he said, pressing her good shoulder into the floor but clearly unwilling to touch her injured one, giving her leverage to nearly throw him off.

"What did they _do_ to you?" she spat up at him as Youngjae found what he needed. He stabbed the needle into her arm and gave her the full dose. For a long beat she didn't let up, then she began to weaken and slow as the sedative hit her system. "Wha...the hell did they do?" she mumbled again. Her glare turned slightly pleading, but before Junhong could answer, she was out.

He stared down at her, wide-eyed, looking very much like Zelo in the moment. Youngjae caught his breath, then touched his arm lightly.

"Are you okay?"

Junhong blinked and sat back on his heels.

"I don't--know. Are _you_? Did she hit you? I'm sorry, she's faster than I thought--"

"I'm good. My reflexes are cat-like." Youngjae needed two tries to cap the syringe; his hands were shaking slightly. Junhong didn't notice, still staring at the girl. Youngjae cleared his throat. "You could at least _act_ impressed."

Junhong shook his head, pressing his lips together tightly to hide what would have probably been an awe-struck smile.

"We should get her onto Cheonsa," Youngjae said. Junhong's un-smile disappeared.

"The capt--Yongguk hyung said--I mean, are you sure?"

"We have better restraints onboard," Youngjae said, avoiding the actual question, to which he could have only answered _no, I'm not fucking sure_. "Besides--she's a Sentinel, and she seems at least partly self-aware." _And she seems to know_ you _._ "We might be able to help her."

Junhong's expression relaxed, his head tilting as he smiled.

"You know you're my favorite human?"

Youngjae willed himself not to blush, though judging by the heat in his cheeks it didn't work. "Help me lift her," he said.

*

Himchan took Daehyun to the 'pit. Jongup was where he'd left him, joined by Eunae now, the two of them talking in their quiet Moon shorthand as they worked. The sight made something go painfully tender in Himchan's heart.

Daehyun stopped short on the threshold. Before Himchan could wonder at this uncharacteristic shyness, he caught the reverent look on his face as he looked around the cockpit, eyes settling first on the helm and then the view.

"You know it hasn't been right in here without you," Himchan told him quietly. Daehyun nodded, blinking rapidly.

"Of course not; none of you can fly worth a damn." His eyes fell on Jongup and he softened. " _What's_ he doing again?" he asked in a low voice.

"Using the Sentinels to keep the NRA off our asses," Himchan said, then raised his voice. "Jongup-ah--ready for some good news?"

The mechanic glanced over, brow furrowed in his focused scowl, but he lit up at the sight of Daehyun and pushed himself to his feet.

"Hyung!" He hurried over and allowed himself to be hugged and spun in a circle. Himchan grinned, sending his thanks out into the universe to whatever force had kept Jung Daehyun in one piece long enough for them to get him back.

Eunae was watching from the workstation, a faint wistful smile on her lips. She caught Himchan's eye and looked away.

The comm chirruped behind them and Daehyun released Jongup to settle himself at the helm, sliding his hands across the controls for a beat.

"We're being hailed by one of the Jackdaw ships," he said, and grimaced. "Right, they don't know yet."

"Know what?" Jongup said.

"Their captain--I assume he was their captain, Woo?--He's dead."

Eunae and Jongup looked at each other. Himchan didn't do a celebratory fist-pump, but only because he wasn't tacky. His insides were definitely fluttering with confetti, though. Woo was _dead_? Things were finally looking up.

"You're sure?" Jongup said, his voice strained. Himchan squeezed his shoulder.

"He was em _phat_ ically deprived of oxygen," Daehyun assured him. The comm chirruped again and he glanced at Himchan. "I can make up some bullshit to put them off--"

"No." Eunae joined him. "Let me speak to them."

"Umma?"

She glanced back at Jongup. "Trust me."

Daehyun moved aside to let her reach the panel and she answered the hail, throwing an image up on the viewscreen. The Jackdaw on the other end frowned when he saw her.

"Moon? What's going on, where's the captain? His team isn't responding."

"Woo's dead," Eunae said simply. "I'm taking command of your ship."

The surprise on the Jackdaw's face matched Jongup's, and probably Himchan's. They exchanged a quick look.

The Jackdaw recovered quickly. "How d'you work that one out?"

Eunae shrugged. "Woo was only in power because I gave him the tech he needed to take it. Right now I'm controlling the Sentinels' movements. I can turn them on your ships any time. Maybe I should."

Daehyun gave Himchan a wide-eyed stare, clearly telegraphing his thought: _I'm glad she's on_ our _side._

Jongup looked like he wasn't sure whether to intervene. Himchan found his hand and squeezed and Jongup's fingers clamped around his, painfully tight.

The Jackdaw was frowning, but he looked more thoughtful than angry. He looked at someone off-screen, gave a tiny shrug, then looked back at Eunae with a kind of amused resignation.

"So what are your orders, boss?" he asked.

*

They passed three dead Jackdaws on their way to the command center.

"Any idea what happened to this ship's crew?" Yongguk asked.

"Dead, maybe. No one brought them to the brig, anyway." Junseo sounded unconcerned at the thought of his people having just been killed by Jackdaws. Yongguk frowned, studying his profile as they went. He looked like Junhong, though his eyes were smaller, his mouth fuller. Different chin.

"I'd like to know what you were doing in an NRA prison," he told him.

"And I'd like to know what a Matoki crew is doing with my brother," Junseo shot back. Yongguk didn't miss the hint of a sneer in his voice when he said _Matoki_. He wasn't surprised. You could take the soldier out of the NRA...But he found he didn't mind answering the question.

"Daehyun taught him to make omelettes. And he's been doing a lot of gardening."

Junseo glared at him, clearly suspecting he was being mocked. Yongguk looked back with an expression he hoped was impassive and not challenging. He wouldn't forget how quickly Junhong had moved when the Sentinel girl had turned her weapon on Daehyun. Whether his presence turned out to be temporary or not, he was part of the crew for now, and Yongguk wouldn't antagonize his brother if he could help it.

"Gardening," Junseo repeated. Yongguk gave a half shrug and nodded.

"He seems to like it."

Junseo still looked suspicious, but Yongguk thought that might just be his face--any time he wasn't looking at Junhong, at least.

"Okay," he said finally, and started to walk again.

They rounded a corner and Yongguk spotted the movement out of the corner of his eye just in time to yank Junseo back and dodge the blaster hit. They scrambled back behind the corner for cover.

"That wasn't a Jackdaw," Junseo said. He peeked again and drew back from another sally of blaster fire. "I think we just found what's left of the crew."

Yongguk thought fast, recalling Himchan's descriptions of the officers he'd met here. Young and inexperienced. Now that Daehyun was back safely, Yongguk didn't especially want a shoot-out with a bunch of scared kids.

"Get them to stand down," he told Junseo. He looked at him like he was crazy.

"How?"

"I don't know, you're all NRA--Appeal to your shared sense of civic whatever."

Junseo rolled his eyes but inched back to the corner.

"Don't shoot," he called. "We aren't Jackdaws."

Silence from around the corner, then a woman's voice, slightly shaky.

"Choi?"

"Hey, Doc. Truce, okay? We're coming out, don't kill us." He motioned to Yongguk. Yongguk let him go first. When there was no answering fire this time, he followed.

Himchan had been right, they _were_ young. There were three of them: the woman and two men, none of whom looked much older than Junhong. They raised their blasters at the sight of Yongguk, but when he raised his hands, weapon aimed at the ceiling, they lowered theirs slightly.

"How the hell did you get out?" the woman asked Junseo exasperatedly. "And who the hell are _you_?" Her eyes raked over Yongguk suspiciously. He saw the Alliance medical crest on her sleeve.

"I'm Yongguk. Matoki. I think you helped my friend Himchan the other day." Just for that, he'd try not to shoot her.

The medic's expression turned from suspicion to confusion.

"The Jackdaws let us out," Junseo told her. "Their mistake; that BIA unit you guys were holding killed their captain."

Her eyes widened. The round-faced boy--man--behind her scowled.

"Nice to know she's good for something," he muttered. He saw Yongguk looking at him and lifted his chin. "They killed our commander." His voice shook a little and Yongguk had an unwilling burst of sympathy for the kid, not to mention guilt over bringing Woo right to his door. No doubt he'd lose sleep over it later. For now--

"We need to get to your command center," he told them. "There can't be many Jackdaws left on board and that's where they'll be."

The soldiers nodded, but the medic narrowed her eyes at him.

"Why are you really here? What was Himchan really doing?"

"You had our friend Daehyun. We came for him," Yongguk said.

"Fucking kidding me? This is what we get for helping a Matoki," the second soldier guy muttered. "I threw up _three times_ after that drinking game Himchan taught us."

"That's because you're a lightweight," the medic snapped, not taking her eyes from Yongguk. "So you have your friend. What now?" She arched an eyebrow defiantly and Yongguk almost smiled.

"Now? We get the Jackdaws off your ship," he said.

*

"You're not getting back on a Jackdaw ship--are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?" Jongup demanded. His mother sighed patiently, almost as if he wasn't asking a perfectly valid question.

Daehyun and Himchan had left the 'pit when they sensed the storm brewing, Daehyun with a backwards longing glance at the helm, Himchan with a questioning look at Jongup. He'd nodded him off, but now he found himself regretting it. Himchan was better at arguing than he was, plus Jongup felt steadier with him in the room.

"I won't be hurt," his mother told him. "You know how it works with them."

Jongup knew. The Jackdaws didn't adhere to a traditional command structure; they followed power. Woo had had it as long as he had Eunae. The cloaking tech she'd designed was probably the only reason the Jackdaws had been able to hold their own after the war. Jongup guessed the captain had promised his people more technical advances--he'd never have set Eunae up with those labs otherwise.

"They'll only follow you if you design more tech for them," Jongup said. His mother brushed the hair off his forehead. She wouldn't quite meet his eyes.

"It's been years," she said quietly. "What do you think I've been doing all this time?"

Jongup's mind went blank for a beat. _Catatonic_ , Jin had described her state after she'd heard Jongup was dead. But apparently she'd gotten over that, because her labs _were_ up and running--

"No," he said, taking a step back so she couldn't touch him.

"Nothing that could hurt anyone," she rushed to add. "Not like the cloak, just--a better welding agent to help with the structural integrity of their ships, a more efficient water recycling system--"

"If you try to lead them they'll expect more than that. You don't have to have anything to do with them again--you already said it, we could turn the Sentinels on them _right now_ \--"

"Jongup-ah--" She cut him off, breathing in sharply, nostrils flaring. "Woo was right about something," she said finally. "I've been with the Jackdaws for _eleven years_. It's not--it isn't all the way you remember it, they aren't all--" She broke off as Jongup's eyes widened in disbelief.

"They aren't all _bad_?" he guessed quietly. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? "So--okay great, go be their leader and help them kill more people, I guess."

She threw up her hands as she turned her back on him, returning to their workstation. "You think so little of me?"

"I think so little of _them_."

"Word will spread about the Sentinels." She didn't need to raise her voice for him to hear her perfectly. "Things are about to change, Jongup-ah. We don't have to just _wait_ \--we can shape things ourselves this time. We-- _I_." She stopped, her face crumpling for a breath before she composed herself. "I helped the Jackdaws already. I don't get to just walk away now. Not when I have a chance to make things...better."

Jongup's anger began to diffuse. He could understand guilt; he had plenty of his own.

"Then I'll come with you," he said recklessly. He couldn't lose his mother so soon after finding her; the universe couldn't be that unfair.

She smiled at him tiredly. "I think your Himchan would have something to say about that."

_Then he'll come with_ me _._

But Jongup didn't say it. The thought of Himchan deflated him, and not because he didn't believe he'd come with him if he asked. Himchan hated the Jackdaws as much as the NRA--maybe more. If he was on one of their ships, he wouldn't be able to resist starting a fight. If he was on one of their ships, he'd get himself killed. Jongup could never ask him to do it, and he couldn't bear to leave him, either.

He saw his mother knew this already, which was unsettling. Jongup was still getting used to the idea of being open about the relationship in front of their friends. Even knowing they all supported it, he couldn't quite shake the habit of hiding anything important to him, lest it be snatched away.

"I like him, you know," his mother said. "The rest of your crew, too. I'd never go if I didn't know you'd be all right."

"And will you?" Jongup said. He couldn't believe he was considering this.

She straightened her spine, bringing herself up to her full height, which probably wouldn't have been impressive to anyone but Jongup.

But the steel in her gaze was objectively terrifying.

"I'm not the one you should be worried about," she said.

*

They got the girl back to the medbay, though Junhong didn't breathe easy until she was strapped to the table. Injured or no, his fellow Sentinel or no, she'd come very close to breaking out of his grasp back on the satellite ship. The thought of what she could have done to Youngjae made him shudder.

"Okay," the medic murmured, mostly to himself, leaning in to examine the implant on the back of her neck. "Jongup's really better with this stuff..."

"You can't just take it out like you did for me?" Junhong asked. Youngjae made a face.

"Doesn't feel right without her consent."

"She didn't consent to have the thing put _in_ her in the first place," Junhong pointed out, craning his neck to see her face. She looked so peaceful with one cheek smushed against the exam table.

"Good point."

_What did they_ do _to you?_

Something was worrying at the edge of his mind, some mostly-forgotten thing. He was sure he didn't know her, and yet. Something...

"You brought her on board?" Daehyun's voice shattered Junhong's concentration. The pilot was closely followed by Himchan, whose expression was dark with displeasure. Daehyun came over and let his chin rest on Youngjae's shoulder, peering solemnly at the girl.

"Personal space while I work, Dae," Youngjae said, but gently. Himchan tugged him away. He still looked distracted.

Junhong searched himself for traces of jealousy--the familiar way Daehyun snuggled up to Youngjae--and was relieved to find none. He didn't need a chip in his head to mark the difference between the shy smiles Youngjae had been giving him all week and the exasperated fondness he was aiming Daehyun's way now. Junhong had a brother too, after all.

"Where's Jongup-ah?" Youngjae asked. "I could use a hand."

Himchan grimaced. "He's--a bit preoccupied at the moment. Do what you can for now." He looked at Junhong. "I heard from Bbang. They just cleared the sat ship's CC and he'll be heading back soon with your _brother_ \--" He shook his head in wonder, smiling slightly.

Junhong ducked his head to hide his relief. It wasn't that he didn't think Junseo could handle himself. But he hadn't wanted to let him out of his sight just yet. It was hard to believe he hadn't simply hallucinated the whole reunion.

"Be nice when they get here, Channie," Youngjae said

"When am I not nice?"

Everyone in the room gave him identical skeptical looks and he huffed, glaring at Junhong as if to ask, _Can you_ believe _what I have to put up with?_

"He was NRA," Daehyun spoke up. He was staring at Junhong through narrowed, thoughtful eyes. "But he hates them as much as we do--I'm pretty sure because of what they did to you."

Something warm rushed through Junhong at this. Youngjae caught his eye and smiled.

"He was always trying to get a rise out of the Sentinels," Daehyun continued. "Everyone else thought he was nuts, but--he just wanted to know if there were still...people in there. I mean, obviously there were, but--"

"Yeah," Junhong said. His relief was a nearly tangible thing. So Junseo must not have known or intended what happened to him. At once the weight of the question Junhong had carried since getting his memories back lifted off his shoulders.

Daehyun was still watching him. "I feel like we're just meeting," he said. "It's so weird." He caught Youngjae glaring at him and added hastily, "I mean, I'm glad you have your memories back, it's awesome, just--"

"I remember everything that's happened on Cheonsa, hyung," Junhong said, using the honorificdeliberately. As he'd hoped, Daehyun looked surprised but pleased. Himchan gave Junhong a wink. "I'm still Zelo, just--more, I guess."

"Definitely more," Youngjae murmured. Daehyun looked at him sharply, then back at Junhong, a question dawning on his face. Junhong busied himself examining the Sentinel girl's arm implant. As far as he knew, none of the crew knew he and Youngjae were--whatever they were--yet.

Before Daehyun could ask, Yongguk, Junseo, and a girl in an NRA uniform entered the med bay. Junhong let out a breath as his brother made a beeline for his side. The girl stiffened at the sight of the group. Himchan didn't reach for his blaster as Junhong would have expected, instead asking quietly, "Soomin-ah, you all right?"

She glared at him. "No thanks to you. I liked you better when you'd been shot."

He took this in stride, shrugging. "The day's still young."

"I thought we weren't bringing her onboard?" Yongguk asked Youngjae, eyeing the Sentinel.

"She's my patient," Youngjae replied stoutly. "She belongs in here."

"That's a good way to get your crew killed," Soomin told him. She was watching the girl on the table warily.

"We've had Sentinels on this ship before," Yongguk told her. "Turned out okay." He smiled at Junhong.

Surprisingly, Junseo spoke up. "You had a ZELO unit," he said. "The BIA's are different." He looked at Soomin. "Your crew must have a death wish."

"Different how?" Youngjae asked.

Junseo glanced at Junhong, clearly discomfited at the sudden attention from the group. Junhong gave him an encouraging nod.

"Sentinels were designed to pair off," he explained. "One ZELO with one BIA. The ZELO units were skewed toward tech work, or at least that was the story when I was told about the program." His voice turned bitter. "The BIA's were skewed towards combat--they'd be there to watch their partner's back, was the idea. I don't know how that actually played out, though; I've been a little--out of it." Here he glared at Soomin, who ignored him, still staring at the girl.

"So this is Junhong's...partner," Youngjae said. He didn't look happy about this development. He met his eyes. "I bet this explains why your chip started going haywire when we got within range."

"And why she lost it all of a sudden," Soomin said. "She'd been--not _docile_ , but...manageable...until you all showed up." She eyed Junhong's implants. "Until _you_ showed up. She almost killed two of our people trying to get to you; we gave her enough sedative it _should_ have knocked her out for a week."

"That makes sense if she was...what, programmed to protect him?" Yongguk said.

The idea made Junhong feel very odd. He looked at the girl again, wracking his mind for memories of _protector_ or _partner_. There was nothing, except for that tiny tickle at the back of his mind.He thought of his chip, of the way moments from his time as a Sentinel had started coming back to him. What if there were memories of this girl on it?

"What were you doing with her?" Himchan asked Soomin. "Why not flag down her Operator if she's so dangerous?"

She looked around at them, clearly uncomfortable, before seeming to come to a decision.

"All the Sentinel malfunctions?" she said. "She can lead us to the one who's causing them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm sorry for the slight posting delay; I'm moving 450 miles away next weekend and packing has taken over my life. Thanks for your patience and thanks for reading! <3


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks so much for being patient with me while I moved. I should be able to settle back into bi-weekly updates now. I hope you like this. Thank you for reading. <3  
> ______________________________________________________________________________________________

"You are way too excited about going back to prison," Junseo told Daehyun. The pilot was bouncing again. It had started as soon as they'd left Cheonsa and returned to the sat ship's hangar bay. 

"Don't spoil this for me," Daehyun said. "Flying this ship is a lifelong dreamI've been harboring for--"

"--six hours--"

"Yeah, but like six  _intense_ hours." He grinned and Junseo found himself tempted to grin back. Jung Daehyun was a strange one, but there was something intensely likable about him all the same. 

Junhong elbowed him. Junseo had to look  _up_ to look into his eyes. Unfair, but he didn't have it in him to complain. His brother  _knew_  him, and for some reason had chosen not to hate him. Junseo was never complaining again.

"You know you don't have to come," Junhong murmured. "You can stay on Cheonsa."

"Kid, if you tell me that one more time I'm gonna--" Junseo raised a fist. His brother gave it an unimpressed look. 

"You know I could definitely kick your ass now, right?"

Junseo's eyes flickered down to the metal interfaces set into Junhong's forearms, the blue sensors dimly lit just under his skin. The urge to laugh fled and was replaced with the urge to destroy things. 

"I'm not letting you out of my sight again," he said shortly. Alliance, Matoki, Jackdaw, Sentinel--he wasn't prepared to trust any of them with his brother right now. Although, fucked as it was, the Matoki were currently the least of his worries. "End of discussion."

A pout flashed across Junhong's face before he settled into a more adult expression of exasperation. Junseo ignored this, distracted by Daehyun, who had stopped bouncing and was watching them with his head tilted, a peculiar look on his face. Junseo didn't have time to grow embarrassed as a clanking announced the Matoki captain, striding down Cheonsa's ramp to join them. Junhong's spine straightened.

"It's been long enough; we need to assess things on the prison," Yongguk said without preamble. "Junhong, Eunae showed you how to access your weapons systems without your chip?"

"I'm good to go, hyung," Junhong confirmed. Junseo watched the captain's reaction to this informal address. He didn't seem to mind, gracing Junhong with a smile that was small but appeared genuine. 

"Dae's flying--" His face darkened worriedly as he glanced at his pilot, who promptly started bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet again. 

"It's good I'm good it's good," he chanted. The captain's lips twitched again and he lay a palm flat atop the other man's head. Daehyun went still so abruptly Junseo wondered if Yongguk had just pressed an Off switch hidden in his hair.

"--and Eunae's with us to meet up with the Jackdaws. Youngjae, Himchan and Jongup stay on Cheonsa."

The rest of the crew might have been waiting in the wings for their cue, for suddenly the Matoki medic--Junseo was pretty sure this was Youngjae--was descending the ramp with the commander and the Jackdaw woman. 

"What about BIA?" Junhong said. He might have been asking Yongguk but he was looking at the medic. "She's dangerous."

"She's  _important_ , if what Soomin said was true," Himchan corrected. "So we need our best people on the job--that's Jae and Jongup." He raised his eyebrows at Junhong as if daring him to disagree. He didn't, though he deflated a bit. 

Strangely, Youngjae didn't look much happier about it. 

"Maybe I should go with you," he said, frowning at Daehyun. "I mean--" His eyes flew to Junhong's face for a long moment and then darted to Junseo's. It was fast, but Junseo had gotten very good at people-watching. He just didn't know what the medic's caginess  _meant_.

"We need you here." Himchan and Yongguk's voices overlapped as they spoke at once. Daehyun's eyes grew comically wide and Youngjae flinched away from Himchan, right at his elbow.

"You two are so creepy sometimes."

"We aren't leaving an NRA medic to mess with the BIA on her own," Yongguk told him. He finally took his hand off Daehyun's head and the pilot swayed almost imperceptibly as the pressure lifted. 

"Jongup can--" Youngjae began to protest, but this time Himchan cut him off.

"Not alone, he can't. Not this time." 

Junhong had his arms woven tight across his chest. "Hyung," he said softly. Junseo didn't know who he was talking to until Youngjae sighed. 

"Fine," he told Himchan tersely, then, more gently to Junhong, "It'll be fine."

Maybe it was the way his face softened when he looked at Junhong, or the way Junhong seemed to be just holding himself back. Or maybe it was the way Daehyun gave a single bounce, eyes widening again as he looked between Youngjae and Junhong.

 " _Wait_ \--when did  _that_ hap _\--?_ " But then Yongguk had a hand on the crook of his elbow and was steering him toward the door.

"Time to go."

Maybe it was the quiet way Youngjae told Junhong, "Be safe," before trailing after Himchan back up to Cheonsa. 

Maybe it was the crestfallen look on Junhong's face as he watched him go, before the Jackdaw woman gave a sigh and motioned the brothers out of the hangar bay so Cheonsa could disembark.

It could have been any of those things or it could have been all of them. But Junseo suddenly understood something about his brother's time on the Matoki ship.

"I'll be in the med bay," Eunae told Junhong. "The others brought your suit; I'll make sure it's...ready." Her eyes traveled between the brothers. She had a quiet watchful way about her Junseo could relate to. He waited until she was gone, then turned to his brother. 

"So--new boyfriend?"

*

Himchan and Jongup didn't speak as Himchan steered Cheonsa away from the satellite ship. He took them a safe distance from the action, ready to take off if the Jackdaws or NRA made a move against them. No one did. He slipped out of the pilot's seat and joined Jongup by the window. 

Jongup kept his gaze trained on the panel in front of him, not looking up at Himchan when he crouched beside him. 

"The Sentinels are in a holding pattern for now," he said at last. "The strike force is contained."

"Good."

"If the Jackdaws try anything we can use the Sentinels to take them out in about ten seconds."

"Okay."

There was nothing Jongup especially needed to do here, but his hands kept tapping at the panel, his dark gaze trained on it, though Himchan didn't think he was really seeing it. He captured his hand in one of his own.

"Jongup-ah?"

The younger man didn't look at him for a long beat. 

"I'm fine."

Himchan absorbed the lie, letting his thumb trace Jongup's knuckles gently.

"You don't have to be," he said.

Jongup let out a long, slow sigh. Himchan watched his face, which was open and hurting and made Himchan want to gather him into his arms and fix everything somehow. Jongup had declined to see his mother off to the prison ship and the Jackdaws. Himchan had been cursing himself for leaving the two of them alone to fight it out--maybe it wouldn't have strictly been his place to stay, but Jongup had been so silent ever since that Himchan wished he had anyway. 

Jongup twisted his hand in his grip so their fingers tangled. Himchan let him think. He was very aware that, with Yongguk gone, he was in command. He was very aware of Youngjae and Soomin and BIA in the medbay. He and Jongup needed to get there. 

But Jongup needed this first, so he waited.

"I feel so dumb," his partner said finally. "I always thought if I ever found her, we'd--be together forever, you know? That we'd escape and go live someplace quiet where I'd never have to worry about her again." He shook his head. "So I told her I'd leave with her," he went on. Himchan's lungs stopped taking in oxygen. Jongup didn't notice, still watching their hands, tracing the lines of Himchan's palm with his thumb. "But with your temper we wouldn't get through the  _day_  without shooting someone--"

Himchan let out his breath in a noisy whoosh, earning a startled look. For a minute he couldn't explain, then he managed, " _We_?"

Jongup's hand stilled and Himchan watched him play his own words back. 

"Um--Yea--I mean you wouldn't  _have_ to--"

Himchan collapsed in a boneless heap with his head in Jongup's lap. 

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack," he mumbled into his--well, crotch. This was fine; they'd gotten very close. "Throwing  _I'd leave_ around like it's  _no_ thing--"

He felt Jongup shake slightly and then his fingers were in his hair, smoothing it down, tickling his temple.

"It wouldn't be nothing. And I wouldn't go without you." He considered, then added affectionately, "Stupid."

Himchan squinted up at him. "So I know that  _now_."

Jongup gave his hair a light tug. "Like it's anything new."

He was teasing but they both knew that it  _was_. The thought that Jongup had factored Himchan into his decision made him feel...things. Lots of things, all of them heart-explodingly intense. Jongup's fingertips tiptoed down his cheek to trace Himchan's lower lip. Himchan wondered if anyone would notice if they ducked into his bunk for a few hours. Nah, probably not; it wasn't like anything all that  _important_  was happening--

He gave a frustrated groan and pushed himself up, blinking away the spots dancing in his vision as the blood rushed from his head. Jongup's hand moved to his shoulder, steadying him. They had shit to do, important shit, but first--

"I'd go with you," he said. Jongup squinted at him. When was the last time he'd worn his lenses? The mechanic's face relaxed into a half-smile.

"That's why I didn't ask."

Himchan didn't bother to mention how grateful he was that Jongup hadn't; that he apparently had no plans to leave Cheonsa any time soon. 

"If you ever wanted to, though," he said. The idea of leaving the ship, leaving Yongguk and Daehyun and Youngjae and even Junhong, made him ill. But losing Jongup wasn't an option. 

Jongup hooked a forefinger on Himchan's shirt collar and pulled him in, kissed him quickly but fully. 

"Let's go see about our new Sentinel," he said. 

*

The sat ship flew like a dream, the trippy kind where your mind had only to lean vaguely in one direction and the whole thing would flip on its head to accommodate the thought.

Daehyun should have been enjoying it more, but dammit, he was  _distracted_ now. Youngjae wasn't here to answer his questions, so Yongguk hyung would just have to do.

"Was I imagining some vibe-age back there with Jae and Junhong?" Daehyun demanded. 

"We're five minutes out," Yongguk said. A pretty weak attempt at a subject change.

"Hyung."

Yongguk sighed. "It's not really my place to..."

"Verify vibe-age?"

"Yeah." He gave Daehyun a crooked smile. 

"I won't quote you on it or anything," the pilot pressed. Yongguk shook his head. 

"There's nothing official, as far as I know."

"But there's  _un-_ official?" Daehyun's voice rose perilously high and he coughed himself back down. "I mean. I'm not saying it's bad or anything." And he wasn't. But he did feel strangely left out at the thought--maybe because Junhong still felt so  _new_. Daehyun barely knew him. He'd always assumed Youngjae would give him veto power over any potential long-term partners. If things had been reversed,  _he_  would have wanted his best friend's opinion. "I guess I was gone longer than I thought."

Yongguk's sigh was a thing felt more than heard this time. He used up two of their five minutes thinking, and Daehyun let him. Yongguk's thoughts were always worth the wait.

"I think it started before you...left. And then you were gone, and Jae took out Zelo's chip and Junhong...remembered himself, and--I don't really know what happened, but I know he helped. Youngjae felt guilty it was happening while you were gone--"

"That's stupid. Did you tell him that was stupid? Shit happens." Knowing he'd been missed after all, Daehyun had an overwhelming burst of fondness for his friend. Youngjae was so smart in so many ways, but in ways of the heart? It was a shame he hadn't had Daehyun around for guidance.

"I did not tell him he was stupid," Yongguk said regretfully. "I'll leave that to you."

The prison filled the viewscreen. Daehyun had barely noticed them closing in on it, and even now he had trouble summoning the appropriate dread. It was just a huge metal tube. He wondered if whoever designed it had intended it to look like a giant space dildo. 

"I hadn't realized it was so...long." He and Yongguk exchanged a sober look and then let out twin snorts. 

"Grow up," Yongguk said between giggles. It felt very good to laugh, especially over something so stupid, especially with Yongguk. Daehyun knew it was just tension release as much as actual amusement, but still. If Yongguk could laugh at a time like this, it was a good sign. It had to be."

"Thirty seconds to dock," he said.

*

Junhong had forgotten there might be a down side to his brother knowing him so well. He was certainly staring as though he could see right through him now. 

" _Boyfriend_ ," Junhong echoed, shaking his head and scoffing. (Could he call Youngjae his boyfriend? Definitely not before they talked about it, right?)

Junseo shook his head. "You were always the worst liar."

"I'm not--we aren't--" Great, he was sputtering like a little kid, not like he'd spent the tail end of adolescence and beginning of adulthood as a murderous robot. Surely he should be able to play it cooler than this. He stopped and started again. "It's none of your business." That was good. Dignified.

Except Junseo rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You need to introduce me for  _real_ when we get back."

"If he wasn't scared off by me being a Sentinel, what makes you think he'll be scared of  _you_?"

"Who said I want to scare him? Maybe I just want to make sure he's good enough for my little brother."

"You were always the second-worst liar. Remember Minhyuk?" 

Junseo had taken great joy in interrupting the two of them whenever possible. This had been in his cadet days, when his uniform was crisp and new and--if you were a teenage boy who didn't know any better--impressive. Minhyuk had been terrified of him, no matter how many times Junhong assured him his hyung was a giant dumbface.

" _Min_ hyuk," Junseo recalled fondly. "Whatever happened to him?"

Junhong's amusement faded. "I don't know. He'd really wanted to enlist." He wondered if he'd done it before the war ended. He hoped he was still alive out there somewhere. He'd been sweet.

He looked at his brother. "Hyung, what happened to Umma?" He'd managed to hold thoughts of his mother at bay, but ever since Youngjae brought her up, he'd been returning to the question again and again, probing it like a sore tooth. Junseo winced and Junhong flinched, bracing himself for the worst.

"No, it's--no--" Junseo said quickly, seeing his face. "I don't really know, Jun. But she made it through the war okay. They wouldn't let her see me after I was arrested."

Junhong swallowed hard.  _She made it through the war_. And their side had  _won_. There was no reason to think she wasn't safe somewhere, missing her sons but living her life. They'd find her. He set this thought aside carefully like the precious thing it was. He'd hoard every bit of hope he could find. 

"Okay," he said, hearing how his voice had gone hoarse. He had to clear his throat. "So how did my law-abiding hyung get himself arrested and thrown in prison?"

Junseo's face darkened and he looked away. "Dunno if we have time for that story right now."

Junhong glanced out the window at the prison looming large before them. His brother had spent how many years in this windowless tube?

"Summarize it for me."

Junseo grimaced. He was facing determinedly away from the window and Junhong wished again that he'd been able to convince him to stay on Cheonsa. He should never have to come back here. 

"Fine. In summary: they lied to me about what they'd do to you in the Sentinel program. When I figured out something was wrong, I broke into the facility to get you out. It didn't work. I got caught. I told the truth. They punished me for it. End of story." His voice was flat but not enough to hide his fury. 

"That's not--"

Daehyun's voice on the radio cut off whatever inadequacy Junhong was going to say:  _"Thirty seconds to dock."_

Junseo straightened up beside him. "Let's get you suited up," he said.

*

 _She's underwater. Like_ that's _anything new._

_She swims. She's kicking and flailing, searching for some crack in the darkness. She has to remind herself again and again that the water is only in her head, that she doesn't need to hold her breath, that she's not drowning, she's just...under._

_And then--there. A flicker of light. She kicks, she_ yearns  _toward it, fighting the water, fighting the dark, fighting the unconsciousness._

_She doesn't panic. She's had lots of practice. She_

broke through, awareness trickling down her until she could feel her limbs again, from her shoulders to her fingertips, her knees to her toes. She was still here. She was still whole. 

She couldn't get used to being suit-less--how would the humans feel if she took off  _their_ skin? (Rhetorical question at this point; she'd asked a few Jackdaws recently and their official response had not been favorable)--but her organs were all humming away where they belonged, present and functioning.

She kept her eyes closed. She didn't require anything so primitive as sight. She scanned the room until she had a full picture of her situation. She was strapped to a table. It would take her 4.2 seconds to break free--the extra second and a half thanks to the sedatives still making her sluggish. There were four humans in the room with her, three men and one woman. Only two of the men were armed. Only one of them was paying attention. Bia sent him an approving mental nod. She would disable him first, out of respect.

One of the other men was standing over her. She would break out of her restraints, throw him against the far bulkhead and--

"Faker."

His voice was close to her ear and her eyes snapped open before she could command them not to. It was the medic who had been with Zelo-not-Zelo earlier, the one who had sedated her. He was watching her with a  _knowing_ look most humans couldn't pull off, but that he somehow was. 

"Hi," he said, smiling a little. "I  _thought_  you were awake."

Her processor was failing to provide an appropriate response. Honestly, processor, you had one (point six-two million) job(s). 

"If you attempt to disable me again, I will take defensive action," she informed him. Behind him, the NRA medic was standing very near the door--nothing wrong with her memory, then--along with two other men First Bia Unit had not seen before. The one with the blaster was watching her through narrowed eyes, his posture bespeaking readiness. The other man was smaller and he looked...interested. 

She focused on the medic again as her processor threw up a name for her.

"Yoo Youngjae," she said. "Medical Specialist of the 171st Matoki Division." She didn't feel anything as human as  _pleasure_ at the way his eyebrows climbed for his hairline at this. It was not  _fun_ to surprise humans. It was simply...a temporary diversion.

The man with the blaster (Commander-Kim-Himchan-Thirteenth-Armored-Division, her processor supplied helpfully) stepped nearer, finger inching nearer the trigger. 

"Neat trick," Yoo Youngjae said after a beat. "I guess that saves us some time. You can do that with all of us?"

She was not human and so she did not smirk smugly as she looked past Commander-Kim-Himchan to the smaller man behind him. She waited for his designation to filter in.

It did not.

She frowned. 

She ran a self-diagnostic. She was functioning within normal parameters. 

"You are not in my system," she informed the man. 

"It's okay to just ask him his name," Yoo Youngjae said. "That's what the rest of us have to do." He beckoned the shorter man over. Kim Himchan stood slightly in front of him, even more at-the-ready than he'd been before. The unknown man put a hand on the crook of his elbow and smiled at her.

"My name is Jongup. Is it all right if we call you Bia?" he said. 

Again, her processor failed to provide an appropriate response. She ran another diagnostic. She was clearly malfunctioning somehow.

"I--yes," she said, although  _Bia_ was so unspecific as to be meaningless. And why was he asking her for permission? What kind of humans were these? Maybe they were the ones malfunctioning.

"Would you like to sit up?" Yoo Youngjae asked her. 

"Jae," Kim Himchan warned. Yoo Youngjae ignored him, continuing to smile at Bia. 

"We won't sedate you again as long as you don't attack us. Deal?"

He was asking again. These humans were  _very_  strange. The NRA medic near the door shifted and rolled her eyes. 

"Deal," Bia said. 

Her restraints were readjusted and half of the table elevated to support her as she was helped into a seat. She looked around the room with fresh interest. She could take out the humans in under ten seconds and locate their ship's command center in under a minute.

She did not.

"Where is my counterpart?" she asked the medic. Zelo-not-Zelo should be here. The medic's smile stuttered. 

"He'll be back," Jongup said. 

"We'd like to talk to you about that," Youngjae said. 

"You removed his inhibitor," Bia said. She should have realized it immediately. But it had been a shock, seeing him without being able to link with him. She'd had an illogical, emotional response, like when she'd detected his presence from the satellite ship. The Alliance crew should not have tried to stop her from getting to him. She'd taken down three of their crew before they sedated her.

"It was damaged, malfunctioning. He asked me to take it out, so I did. He remembers who he was before, now." Youngjae watched her steadily. Bia didn't know what her face might be doing. She wasn't used to needing to think about that. 

"What will you do to him?" she asked. 

"Nothing." Kim Himchan spoke up. "He's his own person; what happens next is up to him."

He said it as though it were obvious, the most natural thing in the world. Humans were so maddening, always changing the rules on you. 

"We were thinking we could do the same thing for you," Youngjae said. "But when I had a look at your implant..." He trailed off, watching Bia, clearly wondering whether she already knew.

Of course she did.

"I don't have an inhibitor."

He nodded. "Someone already removed yours?" 

"I never had one. I'm different."

She supposed if she was still a person she would feel something about this. But...nah.

"I thought so," Youngjae said. He frowned and turned back to the other medic. 

"What do you mean, different?" Kim Himchan demanded. Youngjae ignored him, still looking at the other woman in the room.

"Care to explain?"

She winced and stepped forward, glancing at Himchan. 

"This is all new to me, too," she said. "I had no idea about any of it before I was assigned to this post."

"Spit it out, Soomin-ah," Himchan said, though his voice was gentler than his words. She sighed. 

"There are two models of Sentinel."

"The ZELOs and the BIAs, we know that," Youngjae said. But she shook her head. 

"It's more than that. There's the design of your friend's suit--people who volunteered--"

"Were coerced and lied to, you mean," Youngjae interrupted. Bia thought she might like this human.

"...Well, yes," Soomin agreed. "They all got the inhibitor. Some of those seem to be breaking down now and they're getting their memories back." She looked at Bia. This was new; she hadn't been able to bring herself to look at her directly since she'd found out the truth. 

"And the other model?" Jongup prompted.

Soomin let out her breath in a rush. "No inhibitor," she said weakly. "They don't need one. There's no brain activity to suppress--or there wasn't supposed to be."

"Uh," Himchan said, which appeared to be a question the other humans understood because Soomin nodded.

"They found a way to use--the bodies--of people injured in the war. If they were too hurt to be saved but their bodies were intact enough, they were used for the Sentinel program."

The room went quiet. Bia found herself uncharacteristically curious about what the humans would do with this news. It had certainly distressed the Alliance crew when their commander had informed them. 

Youngjae broke the silence.

"Wow. I knew the NRA was evil, but not, like,  _create an army of zombie robots_ evil."

Himchan was staring at Soomin. "Tell me they only used Alliance wounded. Tell me they didn't take Matoki soldiers and use them against their own people."

The medic opened her mouth and closed it again. Himchan's heartbeat had gradually increased six percent, and now Bia detected his spike of adrenaline. She readied herself for him to go for his blaster. The odds had evened out as to whether he would attempt to shoot her or the Alliance medic. Soomin found her voice with apparent difficulty.

"We're pretty sure it was a small percentage of the Sentinels who were...like Bia. Most were like your friend."

"I don't know which is worse," Jongup muttered. He began rubbing small slow circles in Himchan's back. After a beat, Himchan's heart rate began to slow back to normal. 

"Is it just me or should this shit not be possible?" he muttered to the smaller man. 

"It's not  _right_ ," Jongup corrected, looking at Bia. "I'd need to see your systems to figure out how they did it. But something went wrong, didn't it? You aren't a...program. You're self aware."

"She must not have been as brain-dead as they thought," Soomin spoke up before Bia could answer. She didn't mind; she wasn't used to contributing to human conversations anyway. "Over the years she healed, at least somewhat. She doesn't seem to have any memories of her life before."

Bia knew all this already. Things Bia knew already did not interest her. She dedicated the majority of her mind to developing a new strategy for how to complete her mission. She calculated a forty-six percent chance these new humans would actually help her. More, she hoped, if she could speak to Zelo-not-Zelo. 

"You have no idea what it's been like for us," Soomin was saying, her voice shaky. "We found her drifting in a Jackdaw escape pod that had run out of juice. To find out what our people did--there was practically a mutiny after the commander told us, while we tried to figure out what to do with her. That was just a few days before you showed up." She looked at Himchan. "If we hadn't needed to blow off steam so damn badly you never would have gotten on board."

"Lucky me," Himchan said coolly. Soomin began to speak but he cut her off. "No, honestly, how  _terrible_ for you, to learn you only won the war and displaced an  _entire civilization_  from their home on the backs of thousands of people you enslaved. You poor things." This time his voice was markedly angrier than his words, and Soomin flinched. Jongup's hand slid up his shoulder and squeezed, and Himchan turned away from the Alliance medic, his expression twisted with disgust.

"So--" Youngjae began. He looked rather sick. He looked at Bia. "You mst have regained basic mental function. I mean, this explains a lot. I only did a preliminary exam, but that was enough to tell all your systems are way more integrated than Jun--Zelo's--were. If I tried to take them out, it would kill you. I'm sorry."

The apology was unexpected and therefore confusing. Bia did not do well with unexpected and confusing.

"I'm functioning," she told the medic. "Removing my hardware would be unproductive. I still have work to do."

"You're still getting orders from the NRA?" Youngjae said, taking a step back. Himchan's hand settled on his blaster again.

"I have a mission," Bia said impatiently. Talking was so  _slow_.

"You never told us anything about a mission," Soomin spoke up. 

"I calculated low probability that your crew would be useful to me."

"Pretty sure that's the Sentinel equivalent of a burn," Himchan told the medic. He turned back to Bia. "So, what's the mission? What makes you think  _we'll_ be useful?"

Finally, they were getting down to it. "I believe you'll be motivated to help," she told him. "My mission is two-fold: Find Zelo. Then destroy the Sentinels."

*

It was the most interesting week Hwayoung had had so far in prison. First, the new cellmate. Then A-block started venting atmosphere--that'd put hair on your chest! Then the strike force showed up. Then the Sentinels went dead.  _Then_  they came back to life and stripped the NRA strike force of their weapons and herded them into cells alongside the usual prisoners. 

Hwayoung could have gone for some  _snacks_ right about now; he couldn't wait to see what happened next. 

What happened next was a long stretch of quiet in which the prisoners and strike force got to know each other. The Sentinels made no move to intervene. Some time later, another ship docked with the prison. The alarm blared out and Hwayoung exchanged a glance with his newest cellmate, a refugee from A-block whose face was still chapped and raw from exposure. 

"Another strike force?" he guessed. Hwayoung shrugged. It could be anyone. 

He had  _not_ been prepared for Jung Daehyun to stop in front of his cell, waving through the barred window at him before opening the door. Jung was flanked by a Sentinel and a man in a leather jacket--not NRA. 

"The fuck, roomie?" Hwayoung greeted Jung, clasping his outstretched hand genially if a bit uncertainly, eyes flickering to the Sentinel. Was the robot  _slouching_? As he watched, it lifted its hand--Hwayoung jerked back--and...tried to scratch its nose. "The fuck?" he repeated faintly. Jung grinned.

"The cavalry's here," he said.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! I'm sorry for the abrupt hiatus. I needed some time. To anyone still out there reading, I hope you're doing well and I hope you enjoy. <3

**Then**  
*****

  
Himchan watched the NRA’s robots drift away, their forms turning end over end in the vacuum of space, eerily human-shaped and yet, of course, lacking in anything close to humanity. It was a shame, really. They should be suffering. That had been half the point in venting them into space in the first place.

  
He watched from the hangar bay window until they had all receded from view, and then he watched some more. He didn’t bother looking away as the Mato broadcast lit up all systems, the announcer declaring, in tones of disbelief, that the New Republican Alliance and the Matoki government had reached an official ceasefire. The war was over.

  
The ship was silent, no cheers ringing through the halls. Every Matoki knew that ceasefire was a misnomer. This had been their surrender, nothing less, made too late to save tens of thousands of their people.

  
The commander addressed the crew after the broadcast ended. He, at least, did not pretend this was a victory.

  
_“Your personal logs will be updated with information on the ships we lost._ ” He sounded weary, the fury he’d burned with as he led Himchan and the others to the enemy ship and back again having faded in this strange defeat-victory-whatever-the-fuck. _“I know you all have family and friends out there, but I ask for your patience. Crew manifests are still coming in. You’ll know what we know as soon as we know it. For now…rest. You’ve earned it.”_

  
After a few minutes, the pad on Himchan’s belt buzzed with incoming information, but he made no move to reach for it. Hana and their father had both been on the front lines of the battle. As long as he didn’t look, there was a chance they were alive. If he just held very very still, maybe the terrible awful no-good very-bad luck that had plagued the Matoki these last few months of war would pass by without touching him this time. 

 

His stupid superstition or shock might have kept him rooted to the spot indefinitely, but the sound of his name from behind him made him turn.

  
“What are you doing out here?” he demanded, hurrying to get an arm around Yongguk, who looked somehow less substantial than usual. The burns that had covered his whole right side when Himchan dragged him to the infirmary—had that only been last night?—had been treated, though incompletely, with a dermal gen, leaving a mottle of pink scarring.

  
“They needed the bed.” Yongguk leaned on him heavily, for once not shying from the contact, wrapping his arm around Himchan for support. He looked him over, so intently Himchan could feel it, though he didn’t return the gaze. His friend didn’t ask if he was all right, and Himchan could never have guessed how grateful he’d be for someone’s silence. They stood like that for a long time, watching as the other Mato ships around them began to limp toward each other to provide aid and whatever resources they could share. 

 

Yongguk broke the quiet.

  
“What do you want to do after?”

  
It was their old—game, sort of; their way of reminding each other that there would _be_ an “after,” that the war would have to end eventually. Yongguk had asked it of Himchan the very first time they’d met. They’d stayed up talking all through the night shift. Yongguk must have guessed how much Himchan needed it, how much he dreaded the nightmares that would come if he let himself sleep. Himchan had told him all about his plans to expand the farm with Hana once they went back and retook what was theirs. Somehow, that night with Yongguk, such a thing had felt almost possible, the memories less painful than usual.

  
_Let me guess_ , Yongguk had said. _She’ll be the brains of the operation._

  
Himchan had laughed. _And I’ll be the beauty. Obviously._

  
_Obviously_. Said with a shake of his head and the gummy smile Himchan would learn to cherish for its rare appearances.

  
He’d asked Yongguk the same question many times over the years. _What do you want to do after?_ His answers were always different: _Go back to school. Do something with music. Start my_ own _school._  
As the months had passed, they’d played the game less and less as the idea of _after_ felt less and less likely. Himchan couldn’t remember the last time one of them had asked. But suddenly _after_ had become _now_.

  
“I want to go home,” he said. Yongguk’s arm tightened around him.

  
“Himchan...” He sounded so tentative, so sad, that Himchan knew without looking over.

  
“You saw the lists. Both of them?” His voice didn’t sound like his own. He should have been crying or screaming or something realer than this dignified question: _Is the rest of my family dead? Fascinating._

  
“They were both in the first wave overtaken by the Sentinel ships.” Himchan did look over now, brow furrowing. Yongguk grimaced. “Sentinels, that’s what they call the robots, I guess. They were talking about it on the broadcasts in the infirmary—”

  
“No wonder you got out of there.” Himchan didn’t imagine Yongguk had wanted to listen to it any more than he did.

  
“Yeah, well. They haven’t found the wreckage of those ships yet, but their crews are all presumed…you know.”

  
Himchan swallowed a bitter laugh. Yeah, he knew. His mother had been presumed dead after the NRA torched their farm. The fuckers couldn’t even give him the closure of a body to put to rest properly.

  
“Channie?”

  
He made himself look at Yongguk, whose dark eyes were worried. At least he wasn’t offering platitudes. He’d already lost his family—hell, he’d actually been with his twin when he died—and knew better than to try.

  
“What about you, Bbang? What do you want to do after?”

  
He took his time answering. “I want to get a ship. Nothing military, just—I just want to take it and _go_. Forget all this ever happened.”

  
Himchan’s heart lifted, just a little, at the thought. “Can I come?”

  
Yongguk gave him a lopsided smile. “I was hoping you would.”

  
*****  
**Now**  
*****

  
There wasn’t really a _delicate_ way to break the news that the NRA had created a zombie army, but on the whole, Youngjae thought Yongguk took it pretty well. He regretted not being on the prison station with them to see Daehyun’s reaction, and he really would have preferred to be with Junhong when he learned the news, but he consoled himself that at least they’d be back soon. They had to; as Junseo had pointed out, the NRA would send more reinforcements when they didn’t hear from their strike force.

  
This presented a host of exciting new challenges, such as what to do with over a hundred prisoners, the strike force crew, and several dozen Sentinels. Yongguk and the others had had no choice but to tell everyone the truth of the Sentinels. This inspired a contingent of the prisoners to suggest using them to destroy the NRA and all its people, but Yongguk had informed them that no, they would _not_ be released from prison just to commit genocide, and they could stay right where they were if they couldn’t think of anything better to do. Fortunately, freedom was a powerful lure, and most of the Matoki were more interested in escape than revenge. They would take over the three strike force freighters. The Sentinels would go with the Jackdaws, which would either end really quickly in all their deaths or cement Eunae’s claim to power and earn them a new ally in the form of the pirates. Fingers were crossed for that second option.

  
There was a dwindling group in the medbay at this point; Jongup had taken Soomin to find some spare bunk space and a shower on his way back to the ‘pit to coordinate the transfer of the Sentinels to the Jackdaw vessel. This left Youngjae and Himchan with Bia, who watched the procedures impassively. Youngjae supposed it would take a lot to impress her at this point.

  
He was itching to get some scanners working to figure out just how the hell she— _was_ , period. How much of her own brain activity had been restored? How far did the Sentinel circuitry extend through her system? He knew Jongup was just as eager, but their curiosity was tempered by the total fucked-up-ness of it all. Youngjae couldn’t imagine how many times she’d been poked and prodded like some machine. They had to show her they were better than the people who had done this to her. If she wanted to talk to Junhong-Zelo-Junlongo first, *deep anxious breath*, okay fine, fair enough.

  
He glanced at Himchan, who’d been weirdly quiet through the radio exchanges with Yongguk, and who was weirdly staring at the floor now. It was his freaked-out face but blanker, which freaked Youngjae out in turn. He had to say his name several times before he got a response.

  
“What?” Himchan’s eyes lifted but remained distant, staring right through him.

  
“I was just saying the sat ship will be back soon,” Youngjae repeated. “Hyung, are you okay?”

  
“Yeah.” But he was frowning in a decidedly not-okay way, and when he started nodding, the movement was jerky. “I’ll go—meet them. You’re good here?”

  
“I’m--” Himchan was out the door before he could get the words out. Youngjae sighed and looked back at Bia. She looked blankly back. “good,” Youngjae finished. “Um. Do you want, like…tea or something?”

  
*

  
Yongguk immediately felt steadier as he ducked out of the sat ship and into Cheonsa’s hangar bay. The prison had been A Lot. The thought of Daehyun being trapped there was enough to make a sick lump rise in his throat, and then of course there was the overwhelming responsibility for everyone aboard. It was both better and worse that they were all splitting up. If everything went according to plan—what, stop laughing, it could happen—they would meet up with the NRA freighters and Jackdaw vessels back on the moon where they’d found Eunae. If nothing else, it would be a good place to lay low once the NRA figured out what had happened.

  
The hangar was empty. Yongguk hit his radio to patch in the medbay.

  
“Cheonsa, anyone home?”

  
Youngjae’s voice came back immediately, and Yongguk missed neither the worry in it nor the way Junhong’s spine straightened at the sound of it.

  
_“Himchan went to meet you, he’s not there?”_

  
Yongguk looked around as though his friend might be hiding in the corner. “No.”

  
_“He’s been a little—I mean I think he’s kind of weirded out by the new Sentinel thing.”_

  
Yongguk’s stomach dropped as he read between the lines. “I’ll track him down. I’m sending Junhong and Junseo over.” He waited for Youngjae’s affirmative, then cut off his radio and turned to the small group. 

 

“ _Weirded out_ ,” Daehyun repeated skeptically. Yongguk just nodded.

  
“Get us out of here?” he said. “We’ve got our rendezvous point.”

  
“Gladly.” Yongguk watched him go for a beat. They were going to have to talk, too, probably—Daehyun had handled himself just fine back on the prison station, but Yongguk knew how good he was at acting out _fine_ when in truth he was swimming through water dark with demons. Yongguk would help him shine a light on them if he could.

  
But one thing at a time. He turned to the others. Junhong was bouncing lightly on his feet, his face a mix of longing and worry. Wanting to go to Youngjae, maybe, but nervous about being face-to-face with Bia.

  
“I don’t want to pressure you into anything, Junhong, but the more information we can get out of Bia the better,” Yongguk told him. Junhong just nodded. Junseo ruffled his hair.

  
“I’m coming with you.”

  
“Obviously,” Junhong said, but there was relief in the smile he sent his brother’s way. Yongguk watched them go, the familiar way their elbows jostled as they stepped into the narrow corridor. He could imagine them as kids, Junhong using his wide-eyed mock innocence to get his way and then smirking at Junseo behind their parents’ back. Junseo had probably spent a lot of time wanting to strangle him.

  
_Like Dae and Himchannie_ , Yongguk thought. Speaking of whom—he strode off to find Himchan.

  
*

  
Youngjae met Junhong and Junseo outside the medbay. Junhong could see his relief, which sent warmth right through his armor and down to his toes. If they’d been alone, they could have—um. Something mushy Junhong probably shouldn’t consider right now.

  
“We didn’t really meet properly before,” Junseo told Youngjae abruptly. He held out a hand. “Junseo.” Junhong held his breath as they shook, but his brother didn’t seem to be trying to break Youngjae’s hand, nor did he launch into an interrogation, merely asking, “What’s he walking into here?”

  
Youngjae didn’t give away a hint of what he thought at this reception. He slipped into what Junhong thought of as his medic face, alight and curious, but impersonal and a bit distant. “Bia’s hard to read,” he said. “But I think she’s loyal to Junhong—well, to Zelo—more than anyone else.” He pulled a face at Junhong and now he was normal Youngjae—Junhong’s favorite—again. “Weird, I know, but…”

  
“We can use it,” Junhong finished, with more confidence than he felt. Like he had no problem _using_ a dead girl. Undead. What _was_ this life.

  
“She didn’t want to talk to us, but she knows things about you,” Youngjae told him. “The Sentinel parts, anyway. I think she can fill in some of those gaps.” He gave him a grimacing smile he probably meant to be encouraging. His words did what his expression couldn’t. The past week had been long enough for Junhong to realize he didn’t want to continue with so much of his past a giant blank. Bia could tell him what no one else could.

  
“Right,” he said. He wanted—well. He _wanted_ to press his face to the spot where Youngjae’s neck met his shoulder and block out the world for a minute, but not in front of Junseo. His brother was studying him through eyes narrowed with worry. “I think I should go in alone,” Junhong told him. Junseo swelled up in protest but Youngjae spoke before he could.

  
“I don’t think we’ll get much out of her unless you do,” he agreed. 

  
Junhong nodded once, glancing at his brother, who scowled but stayed quiet. Then back at Youngjae, who was chewing his lower lip but stopped when Junhong caught him.

  
“We’ll be right outside.”

  
“Right,” Junhong said again. He went to the door, took a breath. Thought of the dozens of Sentinels they were entrusting to Eunae and her new crew. Of the thousands more, spread across the system. Somehow, Bia was the key to everything. Or she _had_ the key. Or she’d, like, seen it. Or something. One way to find out.

 

He squared his shoulders and went inside.

  
*

  
Bia was sitting up so straight she could have had a rod shoved up her ass. Junhong probably used to sit that way himself, not so long ago. The other Sentinel’s gaze went sharp at the sight of him, but she didn’t move. Junhong made himself walk to the side of her bed, his pulse skipping with nerves. _She’s not that kind of zombie_ , he told himself. If he pissed her off, she wouldn’t eat his brain. She’d probably just try to snap his neck or something. Okay so he sucked at comforting himself. He wondered how many of his Sentinel enhancements still worked. It had been a close thing the last time they’d faced off and he had a feeling if Bia hadn’t been so recently sedated, he wouldn’t have had a chance of subduing her.

  
He stopped a meter away and they looked at each other.

  
“You survived,” Bia said after a long pause. Her voice was clean of all inflection; it could have been meant with relief or rebuke.

  
“Guess so,” Junhong said, and felt stupid. He added a clever, “Um—” and decided to stop talking.

  
“You don’t remember anything.” It wasn’t a question. Indignation rose in Junhong’s throat—he remembered _so much_ more than he had just a few weeks ago!—and he tamped it down.

  
“You’re familiar somehow,” he blurted, and frowned. He hadn’t meant to say that.

  
But it was true. Now that he was standing in front of her, the shaking in his legs had disappeared. He felt calm, as though his body remembered what his mind could not.

  
“We were together for four years and three months,” Bia said. Junhong’s mouth was dry.

  
“What, you don’t know it to the day?” he croaked.

  
“Three.” Bia tilted her head and looked at him thoughtfully. “I should use human terms with you now, shouldn’t I. We were together for _a long time_.” Her lips pursed in disapproval at this imprecision and Junhong had a burst of amusement. It steadied him.

  
“No,” he said. “No, specifics are better.” Even if they were, in human terms, _a lot_. “Although I don’t actually know any,” he admitted.

  
“Medic Yoo Youngjae took out your chip.” As before, her face and voice betrayed nothing.

  
“I asked him to. My memories started coming back, but I couldn’t make sense of anything. I couldn’t control it.” This part was still hazy, incomplete, the picture burned out in the middle.

  
“And now?”

  
“And now everything’s gone. Except all my real life stuff. My…my _before_ stuff.” The stuff Bia could never get back for herself. Not that she seemed to mind. She was giving him a faintly exasperated look.

  
“Your memories are not gone.”

  
“My chip—”

 

“Contained what the Alliance gave you. Nothing on it was yours. Nothing on it was important. You have everything you need.” She spoke with a confidence so complete it was arrogant, sparking Junhong’s anger.

  
“But I don’t _remember_ ,” he burst out. “I’d started, to, but now—”

  
Bia interrupted him. “Fortunately, you have me.”

  
*****  
**One year, five months, seventeen days, six-point-four-one hours ago**  
*****

  
The humans were doing a lot of shouting, vexed by the current predicament presented by the hole in the wall venting atmosphere and crew members. First Bia Unit was not certain what they had expected when they engaged the Matoki ship, which had been both larger and better-armed—unusual for the Matoki, admittedly, but that should not have been a factor. The logical response had been retreat.

  
Instead, the Alliance humans had attacked. First Bia Unit watched as one of the engineers was pulled, screaming, out the hole. Bia could have saved him—it happened fast, but she was faster, and had had a seventy-one percent chance at catching his arm when he went by.

  
She did not try. The majority of her attention was preoccupied scanning the other end of the room, where her transceiver blinked the familiar blue light that gave her Second Zelo Unit’s location.  
He was not moving. Why was he not moving? First Bia Unit toggled through her viewscreen options until she could see through the blockage cutting her off from her partner.

  
She took in the scene at a glance. If she was the swearing type, she would have done it now. She actually _could_ have, thanks to the education provided by their current Operator, Chee Alexander. He took peculiar amusement in calling them _B-1_ and _Z-2_ , persisted in talking to them like they were members of the crew, and swore with enthusiasm and variety. An interesting specimen, for a human.

  
Engineering’s second level had collapsed with the last direct hit, sending several beams crashing down on top of some of the crew. (Well, that was one way to keep them from flying off into space.) All except for one beam, which Second Zelo Unit had caught on his back. His armor had protected him, but only somewhat. It had cracked under the weight, compromising the structural integrity of the suit (not to mention Second Zelo Unit’s shoulder underneath, fractured in two places). He held the beam up to protect the unconscious engineers underneath, but he could not save them alone, nor could he move. He’d managed to erect a small force shield around them to keep them from being pulled out or asphyxiating, but the bubble of oxygen he was maintaining was allowing a fire to burn beside him. Bia noted with something adjacent to alarm that his body temperature was rising quickly, thanks to his damaged suit. If she didn’t get him out soon he’d cook in it.

  
Her own air was getting thin, but it would not be a problem for a few minutes. She set her boots to magnetize and cut a careful path around the destroyed engine room. Alarms blared irritatingly until she turned down the volume on her helmet. Less easy to ignore were the orders flashing from the implant in her left eye: **MISSION PARAMETERS; PROTECT CREW. SECONDARY PARAMETERS: PROTECT SECOND ZELO UNIT.**

  
This gave her pause, for all of point-six-one seconds. She had ignored her first mission parameter, allowing the engineer to be killed. But her compulsion to adhere to the second was as strong as ever—stronger, as her readouts showed her partner Unit’s temperature was rising too fast, and his heartbeat to match. _And_ his breathing. He was hyperventilating.

  
He was awake in there.

  
It had only been in the last six months (three weeks two days seventeen-point-six-three hours) that First Bia Unit had realized she was not as alone in her _awareness_ as she had thought. There had been the Sentinel in the mess hall who sighed wearily and waved a hand in front of his partner’s face as they were eating. This had garnered no response, naturally. But there had been others—the BIA unit who had hesitated in battle three months ago, much as First Bia Unit had just done here. The Sixth Zelo Unit she had caught humming while he worked. And that first man at a later date, speaking for the first time during one meal, only for Bia’s own partner to answer him back.

  
She’d been so stunned she hadn’t formulated a response before the moment ended and they were herded back to work. She had not seen another moment of awareness from her Zelo until now. He had not had the time she had to learn how to ignore mission parameters when he chose. He would feel every moment of his death and be unable to move to save himself unless she got to him.

  
She increased her speed to a run, crossing the last distance between them. Ignoring the humans, she extinguished the flames licking up the side of Zelo’s suit. She patched through his radio, the one only Chee was supposed to be able to access. Well, what could she say, she got bored and figured things out.

  
“Z-2, you have to move,” she snapped. The beam on his back creaked in agreement. Zelo’s shoulders jerked but he stayed where he was.

  
_“B-1_?” His voice was strained in her ear, whether from fear or pain or exertion she didn’t know.

  
“You have to _move_ —” She repeated. (Repetition was such a human thing, not generally something she partook in. But he was hurt and afraid and awake and she supposed temporary allowances could be made.)

  
She pushed right up beside him, taking some of the weight from the beam onto her own back.

  
“Move,” she said again. Her mission objectives were still flashing in front of her. “Save the crew,” she said, knowing this would work when no amount of self-preservation could.

  
Zelo moved.

  
*****  
**Now**  
*****

  
“This is a bad idea,” Junseo growled. The bad mood that would have been adorable coming from Junhong was intimidating on him. Maybe it was the hair, all long and matted, or the prison uniform, all…prisoner-y. Or the way he’d been glaring at Youngjae since Junhong went into the medbay. Or all of the above! A cornucopia of reasons. Maybe it was that Youngjae was afraid he was right. 

 

“Which part?” Daehyun asked. He’d joined them after setting the autopilot to their rendezvous point, and after mouthing _ZOMBIES?!_ at Youngjae with some eyebrow acrobatics, he’d begun pacing between the closed medbay door and the small window at the end of the hall. Now he stopped, frowning quizzically at Junseo, who scowled at him for a change.

  
“The _having him go in alone to talk to a zombie cyborg_ part.”

  
“Oh.” Daehyun waved a hand. “You know he’s, like, freakishly strong, right? He’s totally got this.” Youngjae shot him a grateful look, at which point his friend had to ruin things by opening his big mouth again: “Plus if she wanted to, she could kill us all in two seconds, so we wouldn’t do him any good in there anyway!” He beamed at Junseo, who blinked at him, then at Youngjae, who shook his head helplessly. Daehyun nodded with satisfaction, all _my work here is done_ , and wandered away again. 

 

“Junhong really is amazing. Ly strong,” Youngjae stammered to Junseo. “And I’d never send him in there if I thought he’d be hurt.”

  
Junseo took his eyes off Daehyun’s back and squinted at Youngjae. If stares could puncture, Youngjae’s face would be peppered with holes.

  
“Right,” Junseo said. “You and Junhong. He told me about you two. I mean, it was kind of obvious.”

  
“It was?” Apparently he’d been unfair judging Himchan and Jongup all this time. This secret feelings stuff was harder than it looked.

  
“Painfully.” Junseo crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t quite have Junhong’s height and he was as skinny as Yongguk, but he was broad at the shoulder and still stood almost half a head taller than Youngjae. Youngjae mirrored his posture back, irritated despite himself. He’d faced down the NRA, Jackdaws, a rogue Sentinel and a sleep-deprived Kim Himchan in the past week. He wasn’t going to be intimidated by his new boyfriend’s big brother. 

 

“Is it a problem?” he asked.

  
“After everything he’s been through, you really think he’s in the right mindset for a relationship?” Junseo’s tone expressed his own doubts on this point.

  
“After everything he’s been through, I really think he can decide that for himself,” Youngjae snapped. Junseo snorted and his temper flared. “He’s not a kid anymore. You have no idea what he’s been through.”

  
Junseo stiffened, his arms unweaving. Youngjae thought he might take a swing at him. Instead his glare fell away, revealing a face way too much like Junhong’s for Youngjae to continue frowning at.

  
“I know I don’t,” Junseo said quietly. “I know I missed…too much.”

  
“So did he,” Youngjae couldn’t help adding. He wasn’t trying to twist the knife. Maybe he was reminding himself. Maybe Junseo maybe had a point maybe _no shut up shut up_. He cleared his throat. “He’s…he’s okay, though. I really think he’s going to be okay. Especially with you here—” He had to stop. He’d been trying very hard not to think of his own hyung, to imagine how it would feel if Youngwon appeared suddenly in front of him, alive after all. He blinked fast against sudden moisture and his eyes found Daehyun down the hall, peering out the window. Fine, so Youngjae already knew how he’d feel to find his brother alive and well.

 

Junseo’s expression had lost its hostility when Youngjae looked back.

  
“I hope you’re right. And—you know. Thanks for…taking care of him. Most Matoki probably wouldn’t have bothered.”

  
Youngjae could have argued the point, defended his fellow Matoki, but all he said was, “Of course.” They exchanged uncertain smiles.  Before Youngjae could figure out how to change the subject, and thankfully before Junseo could bring the conversation back to their whole relationship status, the medbay door cracked open and Junhong peered out. He had a peculiar expression on his face, but Youngjae could see at a glance that he was fine. Unhurt, anyway.

  
“You can come in,” he said.

  
*

  
The engine room was empty and there was no answer when Yongguk knocked on Jongup’s door. Himchan’s was empty too.

  
He stood at the juncture in the hallway, debating. If he went right, he could go down to the mess hall. Maybe Youngjae had misread things and if Yongguk went right, he’d find Himchan brewing a fresh pot of coffee or cooking up a meal for their even-expanding crew.

  
He went left, making his way to the least-likely spot to find his second-in-command.

  
He hadn’t seen Himchan in the garden since he’d shown it to him the first time. It had been one of Yongguk’s projects back when Himchan’s every moment was occupied with Jongup, shoring up Cheonsa’s innards so she might have a chance of flying again. Yongguk had been naive enough to think of the garden as a gift, a thank you to Himchan for staying at his side, anchoring him to—well, anything. It hadn’t been easy; the memories still took hold of both of them too often. But holding onto Himchan had made Yongguk hold on, period, and he guessed the reverse might be true, too.

  
He knew about Himchan’s farmerly past. It had come up at some point in the darkest days of the war, some long night of tense boredom between battles. The other soldiers had laughed at the idea of Kim Himchan with a green thumb. Himchan had laughed along, but by then Yongguk knew his real laugh from his false one, and he saw the thinness of his expression and sensed longing beneath. Never one to push, he didn’t ask—but when they had their own ship, he did make his friend a garden.

  
When Himchan had seen it, though, his face had shuttered and Yongguk saw his mistake. Some reminders of home were a comfort. Others were a spike through the chest. He’d never pushed him to come back, never forced him to work his shift, taking it over himself, guilty at the comfort he took from the task that Himchan never could.

  
Except here he was now, kneeling over a tray furred with green, hands darting expertly in and out—yanking thin brown fronds that had sprung up among the plants.

  
Yongguk watched him work for a beat, the smooth movements of his hands at odds with the tight pinch of his face. The expression gave Yongguk a bad case of vertigo. It was the look Himchan had worn that very last day of the war, when Yongguk told him about his father and sister. It had taken a long time for that look, and the feeling that accompanied it, to go away, and Yongguk wondered suddenly if it ever really had, or if Himchan had just learned to hide it. They’d all gotten too good at hiding things.

  
“Himchan.”

  
He saw his shoulders convulse into a kind of shrug, but he didn’t look up. “Yongguk-ah. All well at the prison?”

  
“Better than I expected.” Yongguk moved closer, lowered into a crouch on the other side of the tray, watching Himchan’s hands. “Youngjae told us about the other Sentinel model. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

  
“What do you have to be sorry for.”

  
Yongguk winced at his flat tone. What did he have to be sorry for? That he’d actually gotten to see the bodies of his family and lay them to rest the way they deserved? That he wasn’t left with this new awful possibility that some of them might still be out there, dead but encased in armor and being used by the NRA against their own people?

  
“We can look for them,” he said. Himchan gave a humorless laugh and finally looked up. His smile looked like it hurt.

  
“What, are we gonna rip the helmets off a few thousand Sentinels to check?”

  
If it would get this expression off Himchan’s face? “Yes.”

  
Himchan snorted and looked down, blinking fast. His hands stopped their steady movements, dropping to the dirt like two dead things. He stared at them like he’d never seen them before.

  
“How do things keep getting worse?” he asked softly. “When does this war fucking end?”

  
Yongguk’s chest had gone so tight he wasn’t sure he’d be able to answer. “Soon.” His voice came out louder, angrier than he’d meant, and Himchan looked at him. Yongguk cleared his throat. “Soon,” he repeated. “This time _we_ end it. On our terms.”

  
“It’s a little late for that.”

  
“We can’t undo any of this. But we can make them pay for it.”

  
Himchan’s eyes narrowed and he studied him in that way only he could, as though Yongguk were a pocket he could turn out and search.

  
“What do you want to do?” he asked, and Yongguk hesitated. He hadn’t said it out loud in years, but it had never stopped being true.

  
“I want to go home.” He watched Himchan’s face. “Don’t you?”

  
His friend swallowed hard and nodded. His shoulders were set and tensed, but his face lost some of its awful clench.

  
“We take the fight back to them?”

  
Yongguk nodded again, the plan that had been forming all—day? Month?—coalescing in his mind. It could be a disaster. It could jump-start another war, assuming they were pretending the first one had really ended.

  
Or it could give them back what was theirs.  

  
“After we rendezvous with the others,” he said slowly, thinking out loud, “we’re going back to Mato.”

 


	27. Chapter 27

Jongup found them. If he was surprised to find Cheonsa’s captain and commander pulling weeds rather than dealing with the never-ending crisis that was their lives, he didn’t show it. He entered the garden and sat cross-legged on the other side of their tray.

“Umma’s taken over the Sentinels. We’re too far away to control them anymore.”

“We’ll rendezvous soon,” Yongguk assured him. Jongup nodded, but his eyes stayed steady on Himchan.

“And then?”

Yongguk and Himchan exchanged a glance. “Then we go home,” Himchan said. Jongup’s eyebrows lifted.

“As in…Mato?”

Himchan nodded, unsure how he’d react. Mato had never been home to Jongup and so didn’t hold the same pull for him as the others, but nor did it carry memories he’d want to avoid. He didn’t look pleased, though.

“You want to break up the Sentinel blockade,” he guessed.

“It’s time,” Yongguk said. Jongup let out a very soft huff.

“What?” Himchan prompted. Jongup shook his head, his eyes flickering between him and Yongguk. Yongguk brushed his hands off over the tray and used Himchan’s shoulder to push himself to his feet.

“I should check on the others,” he said, the coward. Himchan found himself a little afraid to be alone with Jongup, to hear his objections to their super-great plan. It felt _good_ to have a plan, even a vague one. He watched Yongguk go, aware of Jongup watching _him_.

“Hyung?” He looked worried. He’d only be more worried if he knew what had sent Himchan in here in the first place. Jongup knew his family was dead, of course, but not that they'd never been found. Himchan wished he’d told him already, back when it would have just been a shitty footnote to a sad story. Now that he knew what it might mean, the words stuck in his throat, sharp and painful. He swallowed them and moved onto things he could actually talk about.

“We have to do it, Jonguppie."

Jongup’s eyes narrowed. “We _have_ to? We _have_ to start the war up again?”

“When we have a chance to really end it? Yes.” Himchan willed his temper away. He didn’t want to fight—not Jongup, anyway. But the mechanic was shaking his head. He didn’t understand. Himchan had to tell him, he had to _say it_ \--

“I don’t mean we should just forget it.” Jongup seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “Just—slow down a little.” He gave him a pleading look. Himchan’s temper flared anyway—not at him, but at the idea of _waiting_. Of sitting still, of not using what they knew to finally take the NRA the fuck down.

He reminded himself that he knew more than Jongup. _Say it. Say it. Fucking just_ \--

Before he could put horrifying possibilities into out-loud words, Yongguk hailed him on the radio, his voice apologetic.

_“We could use you both in the medbay.”_

*

Jongup couldn’t stop fidgeting. Everything felt unreal and wrong, from the impossibility of the NRA creating an army of the dead to the unexpected sight of Himchan in the garden. Jongup hadn’t seen that coming, nor his partner's sudden urge to go back to war. Jongup had been so preoccupied with his mother that he’d clearly missed something, and now Himchan felt distant to him somehow. He’d have liked to pull him into his bunk to close the gap, and he vowed that he would the first chance he got. For the moment he tried to listen, squeezed between Youngjae and Daehyun as Junhong and Bia took turns talking.

“So I’m not the only one,” Junhong was saying. “Bia saw lots of Sentinels starting to…wake up, I guess. The Sentinel hardware must not have been designed to last this long.”

Here, at least, was something Jongup could focus on.

“All tech needs maintenance,” he agreed. “Hard to do with the Sentinels so spread out around the system. And with so few people in the NRA knowing the truth, they made it pretty much impossible for themselves to keep up.”

“Explains what we heard on the station,” Himchan agreed, nodding at him. At least they weren’t doing the whole avoiding-eye-contact thing. “Sentinels dropping like flies…”

“Operators take care of any mechanical failure,” Bia said. “They must be aware of the technical breakdowns by now. We weren’t able to hide ours from our Operator, Chee. We were fortunate that he decided to help rather than turn us in.”

“How’d he figure it out?” Youngjae asked.

“I disregarded my mission parameters to save Zelo’s life.”

She described it briefly, and even her clinical version of events was more than enough to make Jongup sick. The thought of Junhong, awake but unable to move to save himself…

Junseo turned and walked a few steps away from the group, head sagging. Youngjae looked a little gray as he asked, “You remember this, Jun?”

Junhong gave half a shrug, eyeing his brother. “Not really. Bia thinks some of these memories might come back, but—I’m not sure I want all of them.”

“Can’t blame you for that,” Himchan murmured. He looked haunted, and Jongup knew he must be thinking about the Sentinels he’d ejected into space at the end of the war. Oh, fuck it. He moved to his side, pressing against his shoulder until Himchan relaxed enough to put an arm around him.

“But so your—Operator?” Youngjae prompted Bia. “When he figured it out, he—?”

“Chee attempted to speed up the process.”

“Speed—”

“The tampering we found on Zelo’s inhibitor,” Jongup said. “It wasn’t normal wear-and-tear.” Bia nodded.

“Chee came to believe that what was being done to us was wrong. He wanted to find a way to wake the Sentinels on a mass scale. He made a study of Zelo’s hardware.”

Junseo turned back. “His own personal experiment, huh? What a fucking guy.”

“Hyung,” Junhong warned quietly. His brother turned on him, face darkening.

“What? He has some eleventh hour crisis of conscience and starts playing with the shit they put in your head? He could have scrambled you for good.”

Junhong winced and Youngjae stepped between them in the guise of checking one of the monitors on Bia’s table. “Lucky for us he didn’t,” he said briskly. “So did his little DIY surgery enlighten him at all?”  He was, Jongup knew, every bit as angry as Junseo, although it wouldn’t be obvious to anyone who didn’t know him well.

“You already know it is possible to control many Sentinels with a single signal,” Bia said. “Operator Chee posited that he could spread a virus of sorts the same way, using us as the carriers.”

“Typhoid Mary,” Youngjae said. Bia nodded again but the others stared at him. He looked around. "Am I the only one who bothered to study Earth's medical history?"

A chorus of _Y_ _es_ es and _Um, o_ _bviously's_ met this ridiculous question. Youngjae waved them away. “You missed some great stuff. But so early 20th Century there’s this cook, right? Mary. Seemed totally healthy. But it turned out she was just asymptomatic and she wound up passing typhoid to dozens of people and killing them.”

Junseo nudged Junhong. "Role model."

“So then what?” Yongguk prompted Bia. “It must have worked; Junhong had this weird moment with some Sentinels after I was arrested—”

They explained how the pair of Sentinels had inexplicably let them pass without raising the alarm.

“I kind of thought I was all-powerful,” Junhong said, pouting. “But it was just something in my tech?”

“I personally find that a lot less disturbing,” Junseo told him.

“It is unlikely they were responding to any command you might have tried to give them,” Bia said. “Their connection to their Operator was simply disrupted and they moved into a sort of stasis until contact could be reestablished. But if it worked as Chee intended, the virus would remain in their systems and continue to work at them even after their normal connections were restored.”

Jongup was fascinated. “Would they spread it to other Sentinels they came into contact with?” If they did, Cheonsa wouldn’t even _need_ to fight anyone; they could just get close enough to infect a few Sentinels in the blockade and start a chain reaction.

“It loses strength the farther it gets from the source,” Bia said, dashing his hopes. “The last I saw Chee, he was working on the problem. He sent us away for our protection—he was afraid someone would discover our…malfunctions, and scrap us.”

“So he hid Junhong in that warehouse?” Himchan said.

Bia shifted in her seat. It was the first time she’d moved anything but her head since Jongup came in. “He hid us both there.” She looked at Junhong. “I did intend to return.”

Junhong squinted at her. “You overrode your mission parameters again?”

If an undead robot girl could look sheepish, Bia did now. “It got to be a habit.”

“So, wait,” Daehyun said. “…What?”

“Operator Chee shut Zelo down for his safety,” Bia said. "He left me active for the same reason."

“You got bored, didn’t you,” Junhong said.

“I—intended to return,” Bia repeated. “But the Jackdaws picked me up before I could.”

 “We have to use this,” Junseo said. His eyes held the same sharp light Himchan’s had as he talked about going home. “If people find out what our government did, the NRA will lose control. They’ll be finished.”

“That’s a little optimistic,” Youngjae said. “They’re the ones with everything to lose. It’s not like we’re gonna show up, introduce Junhong and Bia, and they’ll be like, _ah shit, so sorry, here’s your planet back—”_

“There’d be a fight,” Yongguk agreed. “Maybe even another war.” He looked around, meeting everyone’s eyes for a beat.

“Not to be controversial, but that sounds terrible,” Daehyun said finally. He’d gone rather pale, and his hands were fisted at his sides.

“What’s the alternative?” Yongguk asked. “This is the only chance we could actually go home.”

The pilot looked around pointedly. “I thought we already were.”

Jongup did not quite jump up and down and shout _THIS THIS THISSSS_ but it was a near thing. He shot Daehyun a grateful look instead, nodding.

Himchan’s arm slid off his shoulder as he kicked at Youngjae.

“Don’t go quiet on us now, it’s weird.”

Youngjae’s eyes darted from Bia to Junseo to Junhong before landing on Himchan. “What do you want me to say? I never want to see war again. I just want us all to live our lives.”  He looked at Junhong again and sighed. “But I’m pretty sure it’s too late for that. We can’t just let this _be_. We _can’t_.”

Damn. It. Jongup bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. Damn it, Youngjae was right, doing the right thing was right, damn it dammit godfuckingfuckitall.

Himchan was nodding fiercely, but Yongguk’s eyes darted between Daehyun and Youngjae, troubled.

“None of us want war. But you’re right, we can’t let this one go. It’s not about leaving Cheonsa--”

“But that’s what you want,” Daehyun interrupted. His voice was loud in the hushed room. “Isn’t it? Mato hasn’t been home for years, hyung. We wouldn’t even recognize it now. Everyone who made it home is gone. It’s just a fucking _rock_.”

“Yikes, Dae.” Youngjae looked startled. Daehyun’s face had darkened and he was glaring at Yongguk with what looked like actual anger. Jongup wasn’t sure he’d ever _seen_ him truly angry before, no matter how much he argued with Himchan sometimes.

“Well, this is fucking stupid,” Daehyun snapped. “You guys think we can just fly to Mato and erase everything with the wave of our toy Sentinels and things will go back to the way they were? Nothing we do is going to matter, we can’t _fix_ this—” His voice was rising fast and he barely sounded like himself. Jongup would have thought Daehyun would be the last person alive to ever raise his voice to their leader, but now he was almost shouting. Yongguk only watched him, an unreadable look on his face. Youngjae’s posture had gone stiff, his eyes very wide, but he couldn’t quite seem to look at his best friend.

“Dae--"

Daehyun waved a hand. “Why am I even saying anything, none of you ever fucking listen to me anyway—”

“Daehyun.” Himchan’s voice cut through the strangled air. “Go check our coordinates in the ‘pit, will you? Autopilot’s been acting up lately.”

The pilot turned to him and his expression contorted slightly, his fury stuttering into obvious confusion as if he'd forgotten Himchan and the others were here. It took him a beat to respond.

“Wh—I—set it to alert me if something went wro—”

“Go on and check it, please. Now.” Himchan’s voice was authoritative but not sharp. Daehyun looked around, something so _lost_ in his expression that it made Jongup's heart hurt. Finally he nodded and ducked out the door.

For a moment none of them breathed. Himchan’s hand slid up Jongup’s back again and he leaned into the touch. Youngjae turned toward the door.

“I should—”

“No.” Yongguk clasped his shoulder gently. “Me.” He made for the exit and then turned and looked at Youngjae, then Jongup. “I want everyone’s agreement on what to do next. I do hear you guys, you know.” He held Jongup’s eyes until he nodded, then left the medbay.

Youngjae let out his breath in a shaky whoosh. Junhong put an arm around him, ducking to see his face. Youngjae couldn’t seem to meet his eyes but he said, “I’m sorry. He’s—he didn’t mean to—”

“S’okay,” Junseo spoke up. “I’d say he’s entitled to be a little…” He trailed off.

“He was responding to elevated levels of norepinephrine and glutamate,” Bia said. Jongup had almost forgotten she was there; she was so _still_. Her words seemed to bring Youngjae back to himself and he blinked at her as though he were waking up.

“You can detect brain chemistry stuff?”

“I can detect lots of things.”

“What _are_ norepinthing and glutuhwhatwasit?” Himchan asked.

“Markers of PTSD,” Youngjae answered for Bia. “I guess he isn’t as okay as we thought.”

“Who is?” Himchan muttered.

*

The autopilot was working just fine, but Daehyun couldn’t be pissed at Himchan for getting him out of the room. He had a dim memory of shouting at Yongguk, had he seriously—?

He heard footsteps behind him.

“We’re on course, hyung,” he said without turning. Why had he ever left the ‘pit? Everything made more sense in here.

“Good.”

Of course this response didn’t come from Himchan, as he’d hoped, but rather from the captain he’d just yelled at for reasons that currently escaped him. He couldn’t bring himself to turn around. He didn’t have to; Yongguk circled around to the window to peer out before turning to the helm.

“I don’t want to leave Cheonsa,” he said. “And I’m not about to leave any of you. You’re my family.”

Shame was pushing behind Daehyun’s eyes, making his head ache. “I didn’t mean to—say all that in there,” he said. “I don’t know why I…did that.” It had only been a few minutes before but already it felt distant and he couldn’t remember what he’d been thinking. What could have driven him to raise his voice to _Yongguk_ of all people—

“I’m no doctor,” Yongguk said. “But I’m not sure you were actually in control of what you were saying.”

Daehyun opened his mouth to protest, but then the truth of these words struck him. Yongguk was looking at him with so much worried kindness he thought he might pull a Youngjae and burst into tears.

“It’s okay not to be okay, you know,” he added gently.

“I’m fine.”

“Dae.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Daehyun snapped before he could catch himself. He winced at his own tone. What was _wrong_ with him? He’d _been_ fine. Back in prison and then out of it and back on Cheonsa, handling all the changes like a fucking champ. One teeny tiny mention of maybe going back to war and he lost his shit? Seriously?

Yongguk didn’t look startled or angry. “I never really told you about my brother, did I.”

The non sequitur interrupted Daehyun’s self-recrimination. “I—no?”

Yongguk nodded, sliding his hands into his pockets and hunching his shoulders slightly. It hit Daehyun suddenly how _small_ he was—normally he didn’t notice because Yongguk had a way of filling a room, and it wasn’t like he was as short as Jongup or even Youngjae. But still, he was so finely boned it felt incongruous, considering he was the strongest person Daehyun knew.

“There’s a lot I never told you guys,” he said. “I—think that might’ve been a mistake.” He stopped, but Daehyun could see him sorting through his words, so he didn’t rush to fill the silence. “I want you to understand why I need to go back. And you should understand why Himchan has to do something.”

“Himchan?” Daehyun repeated blankly. Yongguk nodded.

“He had family in the final battle, with the Sentinels. We never found the bodies.”

It took Daehyun a moment to understand. “Oh God,” he said bleakly. “Fuck.”

“I’m not sure even Jonguppie knows that part yet. We all need to talk.” Yongguk hesitated. “None of us are—look, we aren’t experts? But you can _talk_ to us. You can talk to _me_. About anything.”

Daehyun shifted, uncomfortable. He hated the idea of being someone Yongguk thought needed an _expert_. “Am I really that much of a wreck?” he asked, trying on a smile that twisted into a grimace on its way to his mouth.

“ _Yes_ ,” Yongguk said emphatically. This startled Daehyun into a laugh, and Yongguk gave him a sheepish smile. “If it helps, you’re in good company. We’re all here for you, Dae.”

It was sweet, and it was trying to make Daehyun’s heart explode in his chest. He couldn’t look directly at him anymore. He felt like his skin was just barely holding him together. He focused on the helm, the readouts as familiar as the back of his hand.

“We won’t hit our rendezvous point for twelve hours or so,” he said. They were taking a circuitous route so if their heat sig were followed it wouldn’t lead anyone on a direct path to the Bends. “Plenty of time for The Most Depressing Storytime Ever, if that’s really what we want to do.”

The idea was a little alarming. Could he honestly tell his best friends what he’d been through in the war? Could he tell them what he’d _done_? Sure, Youngjae knew and was still here, but could Daehyun be that lucky with the others? He’d seen how Yongguk looked at Jongup when they thought he was a Jackdaw. If he ever looked at Daehyun that way, his skin would melt straight off.

“I think it’s time.” Yongguk came around the console and put a warm hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be all right. I think we all need this.”

“Promise me it won’t change anything.” Daehyun still couldn’t look at him.

“I promise it’ll be fine.”

Sigh. It wasn't what he’d asked, but he supposed it would have to do.

*

Worries. Youngjae had them. He’d never wanted to see that look on Daehyun’s face again, dammit. Plus the prospect of starting a war, plus Junseo’s whole _do you really think Junhong’s ready for a relationship_ thing was still playing on repeat in his head like the most obnoxious song ever.

The possible-new-boyfriend-in-question stood at his shoulder, one hand on the small of Youngjae’s back like it was the most natural thing in the world. It _felt_ natural. It felt _nice_ , and reassuring and lovely and Youngjae wanted to turn around and smush his nose against Junhong’s chest and not have to worry that he _wasn’t ready for a relationship,_ dammit shut _up_ Junseo.

He tried to focus on something else, like Himchan and Jongup’s quiet argument across the room.

“—you _do_ think he has a point, though.”

“About another war sounding horrible? Yeah, I think he has a point. I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry to—”

Never mind, moving onto Bia, who might have been bored, although Youngjae suspected that was just her face.

“You said you want to destroy the Sentinels,” he said. “That was your own idea, yeah? Not Chee’s?”

“I don’t believe he shared his full plan with me,” she said after a pause. “So I came up with my own.”

“By “destroy” you don’t mean… _destroy_ destroy, right?” Junhong asked. “Because you saw other Sentinels waking up and they don't deserve what's happening to them any more than we did.”

Bia tilted her head at him. “They pose a danger to the system and are themselves being exploited every moment of their existence.”

“That isn’t their fault."

“And that was true of Jun—of _Second Zelo Unit_ —before we took his chip out,” Youngjae added. “Or before Chee destroyed his inhibitor or whatever.”

Bia looked unmoved. “In the time it would take to do the same for every Sentinel, great damage could be done. It makes more sense to end the program.”

This was unsettling enough to divert Himchan and Jongup from their fight to listen in, but it was Junseo who spoke up.

“The _program_ is _using_ thousands of people. If there’s even a chance to save _some_ of them, that’s what we’ll do.”

Bia moved her impassive stare to him and Youngjae felt Junhong tense behind him as though holding himself back from stepping between her and his brother. “Will you help them by making them follow your orders instead of the Alliance's?"

No one had an answer for that— _yet_ , anyway—and Bia nodded as though they’d confirmed her hypothesis. “Do not imagine you’re doing them a favor, leaving them in servitude. If Second Zelo Unit remembered everything now, he would agree with me.”

Everyone turned to look at him and Junhong groaned. “No, _don’t_ look at me, I’m actually _glad to be alive_.” He glared at Bia, and then suddenly Yongguk and Daehyun were back.

Daehyun stayed near the door, chin lifted defiantly although he couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Youngjae would have hugged him if it wouldn’t have been super weird. Instead, he asked, “Did you fix it?” in his best impatient voice, startling Daehyun into looking at him. “The _autopilot_ , did you—”

“The autopilot was fine. I _said_ it was,” Daehyun said defensively, just as Youngjae had hoped he would. To question any part of Cheonsa’s navigation system was to question Daehyun’s very honor. He looked annoyed now instead of distant; a vast improvement.

“We have some time,” Yongguk said. “About twelve hours. We need to talk and come up with a plan.”

“There should be sleeping in there at some point,” Youngjae put in. As ship's medic he should at least pretend to care about such things.

“Fine, and to sleep.”

“Can we go somewhere more comfortable, then?” Youngjae said, glancing at Bia. “You must be hungry.” She looked startled for the first time. “The least we can do is feed you.” He'd determined by now that she  _did_ eat, although he didn't know how capable she was of enjoying it.

He wasn’t sure the danger from her had truly passed, but he didn’t feel nearly so antsy around her now—or if he did, it was more from what she represented than because of who she was. Junhong held out a hand to her and she gave it a curious look as she slipped off the exam table.

“Very well, I will eat your food,” she announced.

*

Himchan set to work cooking while the others settled in the mess. He could use a minute alone; he wasn’t looking forward to the conversation they were about to have. But when he turned away from the stove, Junhong and Daehyun were there.

“We’ll help,” Daehyun said simply, uncharacteristically serious. He seemed calm again, although Himchan had the sense he was holding himself together with both hands. 

“You all right?” he asked.

The pilot nodded, accepting an apron from Junhong. “Sorry about before, I—”

“Don’t apologize." Himchan had been almost—not relieved, exactly. But certainly not surprised. Despite his occasional volume, Daehyun was one of the steadiest of the crew, and after everything he was probably the most in need of release. Although he suspected it would take more than a little yelling.

Daehyun gave him a small, tight smile, but he still looked worried. Junhong was chopping vegetables steadily.

“And you?” Himchan asked him. Junhong gave him his wide-eyed questioning look. “Doing okay with—all of this?”

It was hard to remember how it had felt to be suspicious of him, or to think of him as a Sentinel. Now, wrapped in one of Daehyun’s goofy aprons, he was unmistakably one of the crew. Without even realizing it, Himchan had grown used to him, and okay fine he’d grown fucking _fond_ of him. If they had to accept the permanent addition of his ex-NRA brother to keep him around, Himchan thought he’d actually be fine with that.

“Yeah, I mean. It’s…” Junhong trailed off, then tried again. “The NRA _sucks_.”

Himchan snorted and Daehyun grinned, his real grin. Yeah, Junhong needed to stay.

“So you’re all right if we fuck some shit up for them?” Himchan asked. Junhong nodded.

“As long as we don’t hurt anyone we don’t have to,” he said quickly, and Himchan remembered suddenly that his mother might be out there still. The thought made his throat close up a little and he nodded. Daehyun’s grin disappeared as abruptly as it had appeared and now he was focusing a little too hard on slicing the meat for the soup.

“We won’t,” Himchan said. He hoped he wasn’t lying.

They made a slapdash meal and returned to the table. It was far more crowded than usual with the extra people. Even Soomin had joined them, sitting as far from Bia as she could get, watching everyone warily. Himchan sat beside her and passed her a bowl. She gave it a suspicious look.

“We wouldn’t waste the food poisoning you,” Himchan said.

“How reassuring,” she sniffed, but she did set upon the food like she’d been starving, which—oops, they probably should have thought of earlier. Himchan’s stomach was growling, which felt very ill-timed, considering everything that was happening. For a few minutes they barely spoke, inhaling the food in record time.

“You can _cook_ ,” Junseo muttered to Junhong, his expression alight with wonder.

“I mean. I can _chop_. Himchan hyung did most of it—”

Daehyun let out an indignant meep. Himchan was glad to see some of the color had returned to his face.

“And Daehyun hyung,” Junhong added, earning a grudging nod from the pilot.

Himchan’s eyes flickered to Jongup, across the table next to Yongguk. His eyes were fixed on his bowl and that little vertical line was there between his eyebrows. Himchan wanted to press it away but oh wait, he’d been the one to put it there. Good job, Kim. And he’d missed his chance to talk to him in private, and now he was out of time.

“We have some decisions to make,” Yongguk said mildly, and just like that, everything was tense again. Cool.

“To war or not to war,” Youngjae grumbled, pushing his bowl away. Himchan scritched behind his ear and the medic pouted at him. Ugh, Yoo Youngjae couldn’t go to _war_. Technically of course he’d already been through one, but Himchan could never really imagine it. Or maybe he just didn’t want to.

“Do I get a vote?” Soomin asked half-heartedly.

“No,” Himchan and Yongguk said together. “We’ll listen to what you have to say, though,” Himchan relented.

“But first I think it’s time we all talked about some things,” Yongguk said, looking around at the crew. Everyone squirmed under his attention, and suddenly Himchan wondered what he might not know about the others. Daehyun in particular looked deeply troubled. “Himchan, do you want to start?”

He jumped slightly. The honest answer was, of course, _NO_ , but this second-in-command thing wasn’t all perks. Jongup was watching him now, and Himchan suddenly wished they were sitting on the same side of the table so he could at least hold his hand or something.

“Yeah, sure.” His voice sounded hoarse. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, all faux unconcern that wouldn’t fool his friends for a second. “Look, my father and sister were killed in the final battle of the war, and their bodies were never found.” Fast, like ripping off a dermal gen patch and a few layers of skin underneath. “If the NRA made them into Sentinels, I _will_ end them.” He glared around at his friends, daring them to argue or to pity him. Jongup closed his eyes for a long beat. When he opened them he stood up and walked around the table to Youngjae. The medic took one look at his face and gave up his seat. Jongup slammed down into it and glared at Himchan as he stretched out a leg and entwined it with his.

“You guys need a minute?” Yongguk asked dryly as Youngjae took the newly vacated seat beside him.

“Nope,” Jongup said. “That was…relevant information, that’s all.”

The pressure of his leg against Himchan’s helped. His nearness helped, even if he was pissed. Himchan put a hand on his knee, hoping to convey _sorry I didn’t tell you about this latest potential trauma_ with the touch. Jongup put his hand over his and squeezed, which Himchan was pretty sure meant something like _you asshole_ , but in an affectionate way, mostly. He’d take it.

“That’s awful.” Junhong was tight-lipped and pale and angry. So was Youngjae, come to that. And Daehyun, and—really the whole group was a matching set, even Soomin. Himchan gave a lopsided shrug.

“Well. Yeah.”

“We can find them.” Everyone looked at Bia. She was—eek—staring at Himchan intensely. He blinked back.

“Can we?”

She nodded. “Thousands of people were displaced and missing in the war. Operator Chee was working on a method for searching the Sentinels’ ranks to locate and identify them all. I believe with a DNA test, the search could be significantly narrowed.”

Oh.

Okay, this was a lot. It hadn’t occurred to Himchan that it might _actually_ be possible to find out for sure. He hadn't thought he could live with the question, but he wasn’t sure he could really live with the answer, either. He found himself completely lost for words.

“Dishes,” Daehyun said abruptly. “We should clean up.”

He stood and Himchan looked at him uncomprehendingly, but the pilot was nodding at Jongup, and a second later the others were all standing and bustling, taking their dishes to the kitchen, dragging Bia and Soomin with them, leaving Himchan and Jongup alone. 

“Subtle,” Himchan managed.

Jongup sighed and stood up, but only so he could straddle Himchan’s lap. Himchan’s hands went to his hips as Jongup hugged him tightly.

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me."

Himchan breathed him in, felt something loosen just a bit in his chest as Jongup ran his fingers through his hair. He could survive anything if he could have _this_. 

“Some things you don’t want to say out loud.”

Jongup pulled back to squint at him.

“You’d rather go to war than know for sure what happened to them, wouldn’t you.”

Himchan gave a small start. “Well—” He might not have put it so ~~honestly~~ bluntly himself, but. “Is that terrible?”

Jongup gave a silent huff of laughter. “ _Everything’s_ terrible. But at least I get it now.” He let his forehead rest on Himchan's for a minute.

“Yah, you two.”

Jongup twisted and Himchan craned his neck to see Yongguk behind them. “All right?”

Jongup turned back to Himchan and held his gaze for a beat. Himchan nodded and he climbed off him.

“Yeah, Captain. Bring the troops back,” Himchan said. The floor felt steady under him for the first time all day. “Let’s war council this shit.”

 

 


End file.
